Time in a Bottle
by Chocoegg333
Summary: "You lied about everything, didn't you?" He was someone always in the right place -always moving fast enough not to look back. She was a girl who refused to acknowledge her role in the world -out of time and out of mind; constantly moving backwards. Eventual Peter/OC. Rated T for occasional violence and frequent swearing.
1. Prologue Pt 1Ch 1

**A/N: Hello there, to the reader! I guess something about the 'creative' title and** ** _fabulous_** **(note the sarcasm) summary must have attracted you to my story here! I'm not sure what else to say in the first author's note... other than that I hope you enjoy it :)**

 **And here's the official 'by-the-book' disclaimer, I'll try to make the future ones more fun ;)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything affiliated with the x-men universe -be it comics or movies. Anything you recognize, including the title 'Time In A Bottle' (which derives from the song of the same name, preformed by Jim Croce) I do not own. So please don't sue me.**

 **2017 Edit: fixed a lot of sentences/grammar/some spelling. ...God I used so much passive voice back then...**

* * *

Prologue Part 1/Chapter 1

 _Paris, France_

It had been raining for days now. The pools of water which started out as puddles were now miniature lakes. People rushed from shack to shack, alley to alley. Horses pulled their rickety carts through the muddy streets. This was the Banlieu, one of the poorest districts in Paris. The place that thieves, murderers, vagabonds, and more often than not: orphans, called their home. (And it was usually the orphans who took on those previous roles.) Here were the highest crime, thievery, and murder rates in the city. (That is, if such rates had existed back then.)

There was one rule: survive.

But one small child had failed to do so.

She died in a side-street, unbeknownst to all but her sister.

The sister was a mere five years old, three years younger than her dead sibling. In her archaic French she pleaded, _"Please Danielle! Please wake up!"_ She beat her tiny fists against the unmoving chest. _"Come on! You cannot leave! I'm scared of being alone!"_ She sobbed, more tears than raindrops staining her pale cheeks. (If that was even possible in the current state of weather.)

Danielle had been trampled to death by a horse pulling a stagecoach. No one had paid attention as the life had been crushed out of her. All the passers-by had stayed true to their namesake: they just kept on walking. That sort of thing happened occasionally; no one really cared anymore.

No one had cared as the tiny girl had pushed through the throngs of people to pull her sister's broken body from the muddy tracks, screaming in grief all the while.

No one had cared as she dragged her limp corpse away from the prying eyes of the world.

The darkened alley: which was where they were now.

Danielle had been able to glimpse bits and pieces of the future, but she hadn't seen this. How had she not seen this coming?

The still-breathing sibling rested back on her haunches. But her momentary lapse of peace was broken by a sharp pain attacking her skull. She grabbed the sides of her head and gasped as the pain proceeded to carve out pieces of her mind. At least, that's what she thought it felt like.

The girl's headache increased. Lightning flashed across the sky. Sparks flew across her body. Her vision turned into a bright white glare.

She looked to the heavens and murmured _"I'm sorry Danielle."_

And then, in a brilliant flare of light: she disappeared.

* * *

 _Brooklyn General Hospital, New York._

"The patient is going into shock ma'am!"

"I am aware of that Nurse Greyson."

"She's also freezing up! Her skin's practically blue!"

"Also aware of that Nurse Greyson. She has hypothermia; it's common for those in her case." They turned the gurney around a corner, wheels squealing down the hall. "Where did the man say he found her?'

"In an alleyway, ma'am."

"And he said that he found her _exactly_ like this?"

"Yes ma'am, completely naked…"

* * *

 _Twenty-five minutes earlier…_

It was beginning to rain in the streets of Brooklyn; within minutes it was a full-scale downpour. Timothy Walker cursed at his own ignorance to not have brought his raincoat. One never really knows when it could rain here.

Lightning spread across the overcast sky.

And then suddenly: _CRACK!_ The Jensen's mailbox was no more than a piece of twisted metal on top of a scorch mark.

"Shit!" Timothy cursed. "Oh shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" That had been a close one!

He turned down a rarely-traveled shortcut and began to run. But he barely made it half-way through before the alley was momentarily bathed in an all-consuming flare of bright white light.

"Aghh!" he cried, "my eyes!"

When the light cleared the alley seemed perfectly fine, save for a few wayward sparks of electricity. Timothy turned in a full circle, surveying his surroundings. Everything seemed all right… He brushed off his soaked trousers and sodden jacket and turned to leave. But he stopped when a groan sounded out from behind a dumpster.

The groan had emitted from the blue lips of a little girl.

"Oh god," Timothy murmured. "This is just not my day. Oh jeez, what do I do?" He noticed that she didn't have any clothes on, and that her body was turning a pale blue colour.

Timothy let out a few more 'oh gods' and crouched down next to her shivering, barely-conscious form. He shed his jacket and wrapped it around her body. _What to do next? What to do? What do I do?_

 _She's freezing you idiot!_ The voice of reason screamed to himself. _And probably dying too! Get her to a hospital!_

He sprinted down the road in which he hoped was the right direction.

* * *

 _Present Time_

"So how is my favourite Jane Doe doing?"

Doctor Jemma Harris was the first female to ever practice at the Brooklyn General Hospital. She had worked harder than anyone else to get to where she was, and she was enjoying every minute of her superiority.

She'd had all sorts of cases in her seven years there: from a man who'd almost died from an overdose to a common condiment; to a woman who'd had a toothpick stuck in an unlikely orifice—but never a comatose child, found in an alleyway with hypothermia!

The hypothermia had been probably due to the heavy rain and cold weather they'd been having for the past three days, but who knows where her clothes had gone.

There had been speculations when Timothy Walker had brought in a half-frozen, clothe-less, little girl. But they had been pushed aside as her gurney was taken into the ER.

"Alright Jane, I'm just going to take a small blood sample." Doctor Harris liked to talk to her patients, it always seemed to reassure them, and her. Even if they were unconscious, she felt far better if she knew the patient was at least semi-aware of what she was doing.

Doctor Harris took the blood she needed, updated the log connected to the end of the bed, tucked the sheets up to the girl's chest, and exited the ward.

About twenty minutes later, the girl woke up.

 _Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!_

The heart monitor beeped erratically. The girl started up into a sitting position, gasping for breath.

 _Where am I? What is this place? Where's Danielle? My sister… Where is my sister?_

She looked to her right arm to see something inserted into it. That something was connected to a tube and the tube was attached to a sack filled with a clear liquid. _But it couldn't be water… If it was water, why are they putting it into my arm? The interior of the human body is mostly composed of water—how did she know that?_

All this information, all these facts, and the memories! She was only five years old! Wait a minute! _Five._ She cornered that single fact. _Five years old._ Her birthday was November sixth, 1342. _Wait, what..?_ It had been 1347 when she was last conscious… But this most certainly was not 1347. _Where am I? And what year is it, if not the time I was last in?_ Everything was too _clean…_ Much too clean for a Parisian pharmacy!

 _Nora_

Was that her name?

 _Nora_. She thought it again and again. She focused on that single word. Isolated everything else and thought of only that word. Her name: _Nora._

She remembered it, engraving it to her memory.

There. Now that that was taken care of, she had to get out of this strange prison. Then she'd find out just where she was, and more importantly: _when._

Nora ripped the IV out of her arm. _IV? What's an IV? Never mind that! Just focus on the task at hand. Just get the hell out of here._

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and placed her feet on the cool, laminate floor. _Laminate? What the—Forget it! Just get out of here!_ She pushed all of the strange thoughts to the very back of her consciousness and moved along.

Nora tried to walk, but her scrawny legs gave out and she stumbled forward, knocking a lamp off of the bedside table in the process. It fell to the floor, the glass shattering into a dozen sharp pieces.

The door opened.

"Hello?" someone said. A woman's voice.

Nora gingerly picked up a piece of glass. She rose to her feet and faced the person. They were a nurse.

Nurse Greyson took a step back, surveying the scene in front of her.

It certainly was an odd sight: a scrawny kid with a bedraggled head of curls.

Then she noticed the blood. There wasn't much, but the red splotches stood out shockingly against the white hospital gown.

She saw that the lamp had fallen over. "Oh you poor thing," she cooed. "Does it hurt?" She must have cut her hand on a shard of glass.

"Stay back!" Nora cried, brandishing her makeshift weapon.

The nurse advanced towards her, "It's alright little girl! I'm not going to hurt you." She took another step forward. Nora only had seconds.

"What year is it?"

"What?" The nurse shuffled a little more discretely across the clean hospital floor.

"I said, what year is it?" Another step; _she seems to be talking quite well, for someone so young_ , Nurse Greyson couldn't help but wonder.

Nora raised her hand: prepared to lash out.

Nurse Greyson stopped and raised her hands in the universal 'whoa nelly' gesture. She needed to calm the kid down, with that sharp-looking weapon in her hand, she could be dangerous.

"Why," she questioned, "Of all the things to ask… do you want to know the year?"

"Just answer me!" Nora screamed, she couldn't hold it back. She needed to get out of here. She needed to get home, and the woman was the only thing in her way.

Without any warning, she reeled her hand back, loosened her grip, and flung the glass in the Nurse's direction.

Time slowed down, _literally,_ and as the deadly fragment of glass flew through the air, several things happened at once.

The door opened even wider to reveal the doctor, who was at first very confused at the current situation. But in the second of Doctor Harris' hesitation, her confusion became a sudden realization as to what was going on.

Nurse Greyson's mouth opened in shock as the glass punctured her throat. And Nora shakily walked over to the falling body of the nurse.

The odd thing was: she was moving at a normal speed, while everything else happened in slow motion.

Then everything resumed its normal pace.

Nurse Greyson collapsed against the wall behind her, smearing blood across it. The Doctor let out a shriek and fell down next to her, screaming out her name. "Erin! Erin!" She tried to stop the bleeding, but there was too much of it.

Nora stumbled forward in shock. She didn't know what had happened. She didn't know what had made her throw it. "I'm so sorry," she blubbered. "I didn't mean to!"

The situation seemed so similar. What had felt like moments ago, she'd caused her sister's death. And now someone else's blood was on her hands.

Hands trembling, Doctor Harris turned on her.

"You." she spat, "you did this!" She tried to grab Nora but she ducked under the Doctor's reach with a surprising swiftness. Doctor Harris tripped and fell to the floor.

Nora crouched down to the Nurse's shaking body.

"Don't you dare touch her!"

Nurse Greyson muttered something unintelligible.

"What?" Nora asked.

"The year…" She murmured, "the year… is… 1961."

"Thank you," Nora responded, feeling way too calm for a moment like this.

But as Nora turned to get up, her hand brushed against the Nurse's bare arm.

Through that first contact, Nora's mind was bombarded with an onslaught of memories and thoughts—none of which were her's.

Twisty birthday candles—whatever those were—pink ribbons in her hair; a cute boy next door; a caring family. All of those memories… of a life that was never her's.

 _And the knowledge._ From the current President (John F Kennedy), to the colours of the rainbow (ROY G BIV), to the difference between a ionic and covalent bond. (Something about metals and non-metals…)

She tried to push everything back, but it was too much. The memories she shouldn't be seeing, the things she wasn't supposed to know, the pain that the nurse had felt just seconds ago: it was crushing her skull.

Nora's scrawny frame crumpled against the bloodstained wall. Her last sight was of a score of people crowding the room, and of Doctor Harris screaming at her, trying to claw her way towards Nora.

The floor fell from under her and everything went black.


	2. Prologue Pt 2Ch 2

**Prologue Part 2/Chapter 2**

 **A/N: I posted the complete prologue in one day, hopefully that gives off a good first impression ;D**

 **Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership to the property of X-Men, nor anything related to Marvel Comics/Studios.**

* * *

"So, are you trying to tell me that a five-year-old girl was found in an alley-way—with no clothes on, then was brought to a hospital, and when she awoke: killed one of the nurses with a—a piece of glass?!"

"Yes, Detective, that's what the witness said."

"And this witness is who, again?"

"A doctor, sir, a female doctor."

"A female doctor…" Detective Morrison chuckled to himself and turned to face the one-way mirror that divided the interrogation room from the observation room.

This was turning out to be a very bad day for him. This morning he'd returned from getting his drunker-than-a-skunk friend home to find his wife in bed with another man. At lunch he had spilled coffee on his favourite tie, which was actually a gift from his cheating—soon to be ex—wife. And just four hours ago he had ran (literally) into a woman and her dog, tripped over the dog (it was rather large), and sprained his wrist on the concrete sidewalk.

And to top it off, he had gotten called in (at 11:00 pm, no less) to one of the strangest, most pointless cases of his life! Oh yes, this was turning out to be a very. Horrible. Day.

* * *

This time, Nora woke to a dim yellow light instead of the bright hospital glow. The first thing she noticed was that her wrist was handcuffed to the centre of a metal table. The second thing was that she was in a rather small room with a security camera in one corner and a large, black mirror taking up the opposite wall.

 _This is an interrogation room._

 _Wait, what? How do I know all of this?_ She knew what a camera was, that it ran on something called electricity, and that it was recording her every move. She knew who filled every rank on the Brooklyn Police Force, and that her wife had cheated on her. She was getting a divorce as soon as she could.

Wait… no. It wasn't Nora's wife who had slept with someone else, it had been Detective Morrison's.

She remembered everything he had seen, felt his heartbreak, his sadness, his anger.

Nora was confused, and frightened; she was scared out of her wits as to what was going on… What _was_ going on? She was so very, _very_ confused; one second she'd been back home, with Danielle… Then… _that_ happened… and now, she was here. But where was here?

She was hit with another wave of knowledge. _I am currently located in the Brooklyn Police Force Headquarters. Brooklyn is one of the districts in New York, New York…_ Nora giggled, _New York, New York?_ _Why would anyone name a city after the state it was in?_ The thoughts kept hitting her like that, the date (October sixth), the year (1961). Over and over; they glommed onto her brain.

The door opened. A man walked in; immediately, Nora knew him. She knew his name before he even spoke it. She realized: _I must have somehow touched his bare skin… probably when I was unconscious… like the same thing that had happened with the Nurse._

The Nurse. Nora remembered what she had done to her; remembered the glass, and the blood, and the screams… not of the Nurse but of the Doctor.

They must have been close.

 _Why did I do that?!_ Nora screamed internally, _how did I kill her? Why did I kill her!?_

She returned to the present; tried to calm her laboured breath. _Detective James Morrison._ He was thirty-five years old; married for two years. But Nora assumed that marriage was over due to the fact that James now knew about his wife's affair.

"Hello," he said, breaking Nora from her troubled thoughts. "My name is James Morrison." He sat down on the other side of the table and pulled out a file. "This," he began. "Is the smallest, most pointless, open-and-shut murder case, _of_ my _career_."

He opened the file. "So I have one question for you, little girl," he pulled out a small plastic bag. "Why and _how_ would someone so small as you kill an innocent woman with _this_ piece of glass?"

And there it was, inside the bag. That now-slightly-bloodstained-shard of glass.

"Come on girl," he said. 'We don't know why you did it, but we know you did. So why don't you just tell us why?"

Nora didn't bother pointing out that he had asked her two questions, not one. She said nothing, innocently staring up at the fuming detective.

Furious, Morrison stormed out of the interrogation room, leaving the evidence behind on the table. He returned a moment later with a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies. _They smelled delicious._ Nora's stomach let out an uncontrollable grumble.

He smirked, "Smells good, doesn't it?" She reached for the plate, but he pulled it away.

"Ah, ah, ah! First you talk, then you get food."

Nora's shrunken stomach made another little growl. The Detective let out another series of annoyed grumbles. "I'll leave you to your thoughts, kid. If you want to confess, just give us a shout." And with that he left Nora alone, trapped in the confines of her own mind, unable to move due to the shock that had taken over her body.

* * *

"I don't get why we even need a confession! There are multiple witnesses—and a video tape to boot!"

"There was really only the one witness, _and_ there's also the fact that she's just a child!" Robinson couldn't also help thinking of the glitch in the security tape.

"Oh shut up!"

Detective Morrison's partner, Officer Robinson, was trying to knit a scarf for his daughter's sixth birthday. Don't bother questioning it, he just was. Out of the duo, he was obviously much more calmer that his counterpart.

"Listen James, we can't just send a five-year-old to prison!"

"Well isn't that what all the juvenile detention centres are for?!"

"Really Jim… I know you want this all to be over and done with, but you need to think it all through!"

"I am thinking it through! I think everything through!" Morrison suddenly got very quiet. Robinson looked up, a concerned expression on his face, as he began to speak. "You know," he said. "I've heard rumours… whispers of strange people, with even stranger abilities. Maybe… maybe she's one of these people!"

Robinson was officially starting to get a little worried… James was taking his wife's (soon to be ex's) affair very hard, and all the stress seemed to be making him more, and more unstable. He decided to take the easy way out.

"All right my friend, how about you go to your office and rest. I'll take the rest of this shift on my own."

Morrison tried to protest, but was eventually tided over. He left the observation room muttering about some lumberjack named George, and Robinson returned to his knitting. It was going to be his little Rosie's birthday in three weeks, and since money was tight, he had listened to his mother's advice and taken up knitting. And now he was stuck with making this damned scarf.

 _Do you loop the yarn around the needle before or after you do the stitch-thing?_ "Arrgh!" He threw his pet project down in frustration and sulked in his chair.

It wasn't long before he heard a voice call out. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

The girl. He couldn't really believe that a child could have killed that nurse, but he'd seen all the evidence… He exited the observation area and walked into the interrogation room.

She was a scrawny little thing, with curly brown hair and dark doe-eyes. He'd seen a lot of weird shit on the force; it confounded him how this little child could be guilty of _murder_.

There was something about her eyes: those big, brown, eyes. They seemed too knowledgeable for someone her age.

They were starting to creep him out now; it was like they were staring through

Across the room, Nora devised a plan. She stared up at the kind-looking police officer. _Police officer_ : another part of James Morrison's rather colourful vocabulary. She glanced down at his key ring. There they were; all she needed was to get him to come a little closer.

Nora let out a small sniffle. "Please," she sobbed. "Please don't hurt me." The man took a step forward, shock written all over his face.

"No, no, no," he said. "Of course not, I would never hurt a child." Another step forward. He crouched down next to Nora and moved to hand her a cookie. "There you go, you must be very hungry."

There. Now he was close enough for her to reach what she needed.

Nora knew what she had to do. She always had—but she wasn't going to kill him. No. She would never harm anyone ever again - for Danielle's sake.

She didn't even know why she'd killed the Nurse in the first place.

She snapped her fingers.

Nora had never done it before—snap her fingers, that is—but it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do.

It happened the instant the noise was made. The sound seemed to echo around the room, _and time stopped._

Everything stopped moving: the clocked ceased ticking; the ant on the floor discontinued its quest towards her bare foot; and the officer's hand paused in mid-reach, cookie in his grasp, lips slightly parted. And just below his hand; attached to his belt, was the key ring.

Nora's tiny fingers reached out and grabbed it.

Easy as pie.

 _Hm,_ she thought, _that's a peculiar phrase._

She worked through each of the keys, trying to find a match. When she did, the handcuffs unlocked with a resounding click. Nora quickly rubbed her sore wrists. She got up—straightening her day-old hospital gown as she did so—and took the cookie from the officer's outstretched hand.

She turned to leave; but something was holding her back.

 _The glass._

She felt the strongest urge to take it. So, she did.

Another thing Nora had picked up from Detective Morrison's memories was that it was very cold outside today. Today in 1961. Six hundred years from home. Six hundred years in the future. Things changed.

The weather was different in America too. Colder, perhaps, but less rainy. So when she saw the half-finished knit scarf, Nora took it as well.

She wrapped its golden fluffiness around her neck and grasped the needles and ball of yarn in her pale hands. Clad in nothing but her blood-stained hospital gown and the golden scarf, she set out into the rainy streets of frozen-in-time New York.

* * *

 _One month later: November 6th, 1961, Westchester, New York._

It hadn't been difficult to get the right papers. Nora had obtained the skill from an office secretary a couple days ago. It was more the fact of adjusting to the different century that made her nervous.

As she shook the rain droplets out of her hair, Nora realized; today was her birthday. Today she was six years old.

Among her time-stopping and information-gathering abilities; Nora seemed to have a knack for everything, well… everything academic.

So at the age of six she knew that she knew far more than your average six-year-old should.

As she was walking to the school's main office, Nora bumped into a table full of books. Besides knitting, reading was one of her favourite pastimes. As of today; she was barreling through Harper Lee's _To Kill a Mockingbird._

The sign on the table said' free', so she picked one up.

"A Wrinkle in Time," she read. "Oh, the irony…" She chuckled quietly to herself and put the book in her newly bought (stolen), messenger bag.

* * *

"Everything seems to be in order, Nora," the secretary looked up through her large glasses. "I'll just take these papers off your hands."

The six-year-old faked a smile while she handed over the papers containing her new identity.

Nora Greyson _._ That was her name now.


	3. Chapter 1Ch 3

Attempted Recruitment Part 1/Chapter 3

* * *

 _Friday, October 5, 1962_

Nora felt a mix of emotions. For one, she was happy; happy because it had been nearly a year since she'd last had an incident. But then, it had also had been nearly a year since _the_ incident. One year since she'd killed both her sister and the nurse.

She grieved the loss of her sister, and hated herself for what she had done to Nurse Greyson. Whenever she could, Nora visited the grave.

When she'd touched Erin, Nora had been informed that she had liked lilies above every other flower. (That, and a great number of other things.) She knew that it was kind of sick, and that it would never be just enough to leave _flowers_ at the grave of the woman she'd _killed,_ but she hoped that someday she would be able to redeem herself… somehow, someday.

On a happier note, today was the day! The exact day of which Ms. Parkinson (her first and second grade teacher) said her glasses would be in. Ms. Parkinson was by far her favourite teacher. She was the only one who had noticed Nora's horrible eyesight, and had been kind enough to book her an eye test.

Because as far as the staff knew, Nora's parents were international ambassadors (for France, of course), and were never really home. The lie had worked for the past year, even if she'd had to fake a few phone calls. (Nora had gotten rather handy with impressions due to a ventriloquist at the state fair the previous spring.)

But the truth was, she didn't have any parents. Any living ones, that is. But no one needed to know that. Just like they didn't need to know that she coming off the street… from 1347 France… who had somehow appeared in the future, killed someone with a piece of glass, and evaded the NYPD, all in one day.

So in her current time, she didn't have a real home. Nora slept at the school. It was simple, really. She just froze time as the janitor was about to leave, then curled up in the back closet of the textiles classroom. (The school went from kindergarten to grade seven.) The same went for food and clothes.

Nora didn't have a great eye for fashion, so most of her wardrobe consisted of dark pants and too-big t-shirts. As for stealing, she didn't have too much of a problem with it; she only took what she needed and left no trace whatsoever

* * *

So here she was; stolen converse squeaking across the school's linoleum floor; bushy curls pulled back with a bright pink scrunchy. And she was late; as usual.

The odd thing about her… ability, was that she never seemed to know the time. Nora blamed it on the rough journey to where (or when) she was. That had most certainly been a _horrible_ trip. She assumed something had scrambled up her hippocampus on the way. (S _ection_ _of the brain located under the cerebral cortex that contains the ability to remember things such as personal memories, time, and date;_ page 89; fifth paragraph on the right page; third line down, American Neurologist's Encyclopedia.)

The tardy bell chose that moment to ring. "Crap!" She exclaimed, looking around to see… no one. Everyone else was in class already.

She _tried_ not to swear that much, but certain impulses inherited from a one Detective Morrison sometimes just burst out. Since she was only six years old, Nora hid her advanced knowledge with a demure, innocent facade. So far, it had worked.

She looked down the hallway to see if anyone else had heard her curse.

 _Nope. Still empty._

She sprinted to her classroom; if her memory served her right (which it usually did) they would be doing Language Arts first!

* * *

The classroom was unusually loud. Ms. Parkinson—as young as she was—usually kept a tight shift. But when Nora entered room B-126, she saw why the room was in chaos: the teacher was nowhere to be found.

Nora cautiously entered the classroom and sat down in her desk. Since she was usually late, she tended to gravitate to the much-hated seat right, smack-dab in the middle of the room.

She was just about to open her book ( _Animal Farm_ , by George Orwell, published:1951) when three brisk claps broke apart the silence like a whistle. There was only one person who had that kind of power at this school.

"All right children! Calm down please and return to your seats." It was the principal; all the second-graders rushed back into their seating arrangements.

Principal O'Connor held the door open wider, letting the guest make their way through. The woman, dressed in nothing but white, sauntered over to stand in front of the chalkboard.

"I'm sorry to say children, but it seems that your regular teacher has gone missing!" His voice seemed a bit.. off. "But I am pleased to present your _new_ substitute teacher! Ms. Emma Frost!"

Oh yes, there was definitely something off about his voice… and posture… basically his entire demeanour was out of place. He practically grovelled at the teacher's feet. Nora swore she could see a spot of drool on the corner of his lip.

There was no doubt about it; Miss Frost was attractive. But there was something _sinister_ about this substitute teacher.

 _Stop it Nora,_ she told herself. _You don't always need to be so damn paranoid!._ "Ugh," she muttered and returned to reading her book. (Hidden behind some spelling worksheets, of course.)

Across the room, Emma Frost was searching. Searching for a mutant.

When she'd felt Xavier recruiting other mutants, Sebastian had sent her to New York. About a year ago there had been a very strange murder case in Brooklyn; one that had almost most-definitely involved someone with abilities.

It had been difficult. For one thing, their mind was _extremely_ scrambled. But she had managed to trace their mental fingerprint to this school. If this were a crime scene, the child's mental traces were all over it.

The regular teacher, was was her name again? _Parkinson. Right._ Well, she had taken a rather _extended_ vacation. Emma had taken her place—forced to wear some goddamn pencil skirt and an absolutely _atrocious_ blouse. Oh well, at least it was white.

She returned to the minds of these irksome, insignificant children. They were all unimportant; except for one. She had a feeling of who it was. Emma plucked the bulky envelope from the desk marked: _For Nora._

"Would you be Nora Greyson?" Said girl looked up from her spelling work _(pigsty, baseball, and automobile. Could it be any easier?)_ Funny. The teacher hadn't taken roll-call. Nevertheless, she put on her cutesy-little-kid-with-ribbons-in-her-hair smile and nodded at the graceful woman standing before her.

"Then I believe this is for you. Natalie Parkinson left me a note to give it to you."

 _Yeah. Like hell she did._

Miss Frost frowned but still handed the envelope to Nora before slowly sauntering back to the teacher's desk.

Wasting no time at all, Nora ripped open the brown, paper envelope and pulled out what was inside. They were square, and rather large. But it was more than enough. Probably _too_ much, considering the female teacher's wage. (Or rather, lack thereof…) When Ms. Parkinson had asked what colour, Nora had requested red. _Danielle always liked red._

Nora put the on the glasses; she was far-sighted, so when she looked through them, the letters on her worksheet cleared up drastically.

The bell rang, jerking Nora from her thoughts. Recess? Already? Crap.

She was probably the only second-grader on earth who _didn't_ look forward to recess.

It was a Friday. _Seventy-five percent chance that they're going to make us play baseball._

Double crap.

* * *

Charles Xavier broke his connection with Cerebro; immediately pulling the helmet off his head. He absentmindedly patted his brown locks. _Good. Hair's still there._

Remembering what he'd just seen, Charles came out of his trance. Quickly, he stepped over to the control panel and began to flip through the many scrolls of paper. He was looking for one particular transmission.

 _No, not that one. Not this one either._ "Where is that goddamn piece of paper, I know it's here…" Finally, he found it. _Oh confound Hank's sense of organization._ Charles really didn't need her location. He knew exactly where the mutant was; he had grown up in Westchester himself. He just needed to look at the readings one more time, to make sure he wasn't going mad.

There it was, and he _wasn't_ seeing things. Her X-gene levels were off the charts. Quite literally, in fact, as the main computer that composed Cerebro was smoking from the excess input.

Charles sprinted out of Cerebro, heading towards the CIA base.

"Eric! Get out of bed! NOW!" He heard a groan on the other side of the door, and then Eric shouted back, "What is it Charles? Are you really up at _nine_ in the morning, working in that golf-ball?"

Charles sighed, "Yes: it's important."

"Why?"

"We need to go pick someone up, _right now._ "

"Again. Why?"

"Because Emma Frost is already there."

There was a crash as Eric slammed his coffee mug against the opposite wall. Several items in the room, including a pair of scissors, a knife, and a telephone, rose up off their designated places.

"Eric?" Charles asked, sounding more than a little concerned.

"Where is he -or she, located?"

"Westchester, New York."

"That's a day's drive from here, at least," Erik muttered.

"I'll be waiting in the car," said Charles.

"Give me three minutes," came the gruff retort.

Two minutes and forty-seven seconds later, Erik exited his room and headed for the exit at a brisk walk.

"Clean that up," he barked at an agent, pointing to the mess in his room.

* * *

PE was the worst. There was no doubt about it, as it was Nora's least favourite subject. She knew she shouldn't be worrying about it at her age, but it frustrated her that there was no academic way around it. Ask her to write a test on the rules of basketball, or an essay on the history or cricket: she could do that.

But sprinting 100 metres? Or hitting a ball with a bat? Nope. Not happening.

Nora reached for the water tap. She was in the bathroom, trying to sooth her sore fingers with some cold water and a tensor bandage. But she couldn't reach that accursed tap. The equipment room had been short a few softball gloves, so her and two others had been forced to play without one.

Come to think about it: her hands had been feeling sore for the better part of the week.

Nora sniffed, and a small spot of blood appeared on her wrist. _What's this?_ She'd never had a nosebleed before.

She wiped her hand across her upper lip; _no, nothing there._

Weird; it must have been just the single drop.

She tried again (unsuccessfully) to reach the tap. Even for a seven-year-old, Nora was short, and she hated it.

"May I help you?"

She jumped around to face the speaker. It was Ms. Frost.

"Um, no thank you. I am alright," she replied.

"Really? Because it looks like you're having a little trouble there. Here, let me help you." Emma Frost flashed her winning smile and turned on the cold water.

Nora reluctantly -but gratefully- accepted and ran the bandage under the water for a spell before wrapping it around her hand.

 _Well she's an awfully smart one, isn't she?_ Emma thought.

When she was finished Nora pushed her overly-large glasses back up her nose and made her way past Ms. Frost to the door. "The teacher's washroom is down the hall," she said as she made her way past.

"Oh I know."

Disturbed by the change in tone, Nora found her path blocked once again! She looked up to see a tall man in a black suit standing in front of her. A tall man, in a black suit, with red skin… and a red tail…

 _Mon Dieu._

Nora let out a shriek and stumbled backwards.

The man said nothing, but stared down at her and quietly closed the door. Ms. Frost snapped her fingers, turning the lock.

 _Without anyone touching it._

Nora stared at the two of them, mouth agape. "You- you're like me," she stuttered. "You've got powers."

A voice invaded her head; Y _es, Nora, we are like you._ She realized it was Ms. Frost speaking, but her lips weren't moving. - _Except you are so much more powerful than us Nora. You have the power to control time! Just think of what you can do with that!_ She didn't want any part in this, Nora took a step back into an open bathroom stall.

Noticing her hesitancy, the red man growled. "Frost, thees ees a waste of time. Let me just grab ze kid and 'port back to Shaw."

"Azazel!" Ms. Frost shot daggers at him with her eyes.

"What?" Nora cried, letting her native french accent shine through her speech. "What is going on? Are you trying to kidnap me?"

The pair of them shared a knowing glance, and Ms. Frost simply stated, "yes."

Nora's eyes bulged, and she slammed the flimsy door shut, flicking the small lock shut. "Oh god, oh no!" She curled up against the door, feebly trying to block them entrance. "Mon dieu," she muttered again. _"This can't be happening! Why is this happening to me?"_

A voice came from outside the stall. "It's alright Nora, we won't hurt you. We just want to help you."

Nora laughed shakily, _Really? Now why I believe that?_

Out of nowhere, she sneezed, and blood splattered over her curled-up knees.

And then her nose was gushing blood. Rivers of it spilled out of her nose and down her face. Nora looked up to the usually-dim lights; were they getting brighter? Or was it just her?

Suddenly, the door was ripped off its hinges. Nora fell backwards, hitting her head in the process. She stared up to see Ms. Frost and the demon man (Azazel?) squinting in the bright light, their current task forgotten for the moment.

It got brighter by the milli-second. The light began to consume her entire body, and it was really starting to hurt. Nora began to hyperventilate, her tiny chest rapidly rising and falling as she gasped for air.

Just as it was getting to be too much, just as she felt as if her brain were about to explode—she was gone. Vanished in a supernova flash of light, leaving Emma Frost and Azazel standing there in their own stages of bewilderment.

"Shaw ees not going to like thees."

Emma shrugged, hiding her immense disappointment. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

She brushed a hand across Azazel's shoulder, and then they left too. The only evidence of them being there was a puff of red smoke, and a few spots of blood.


	4. Chapter 2Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for your favourites and follows! These (as well as the over 300 views, ohmygoodness!) really mean a lot to me.**

 **But I also wanna hear from you! Please let me know what you're thinking, and constructive criticism is** ** _always_** **appreciated :)**

 **Note: when the dialogue is in italics, it means German is being spoken.**

 **And finally;** ** _I_** **obviously don't own X-men. Who am I? Marvel?**

* * *

Chapter 2/Chapter 4

Travelling through time is not an easy, or fun, experience. Put simply, it's as if every single cell in your molecular structure was consecutively ripped out one after the other. And you have no idea where you're going to end up until you get there. (That really puts a damper on travel preparations.) Then there's also the crushing headaches, brain-bending nosebleeds, and long-term mental damage.

In conclusion: time travel sucks.

Nora spun; pinwheeling in every-which-way, trying to find a way out of whatever wormhole she was trapped in.

After what seemed like forever (though was probably only a few seconds) the light began to recede from her vision. And then her stomach leapt into her throat, she fell, and there was nothing Nora could do to stop it.

She landed flat on her back, spine stinging. She felt around, trying to get her bearings.

 _Where am I?_ When _am I?_ A sob escaped her lips as she curled up in a ball. The thought of _not knowing_ where she was… it was unbearable.

Looking up from her highly-effective fetal position, Nora observed the alien surroundings. The room had very plain decor: rough wooden floors; a dirtied mirror hanging on the wall next to an old cabinet; and a metal bed frame enclosing an uncomfortable-looking mattress. The only light in the dark room came from the grey skies outside a window.

And painted on the window, she saw a black swastika.

She slowly crept over to the window and peeked outside. It was like a picture from one of the history texts. Men in shiny black boots stood at the posts of a fence that incarcerated what looked like hundreds of people. The men stood immobile and emotionless, wearing badges emblazoned with the Nazi symbol. The same could be said for the prisoners attitudes', except they all had yellow stars instead of badges.

Nora's mouth fell open in shock. She let out a small squeak and backed into a corner, trying to hide her naked body from the world. (Oh yes, she was also naked, her clothes surely in a messy pile on the washroom floor. Just one of the many other _wonderful_ things to happen today.)

Nazis… Of course it was the Nazis… Her luck just seemed to be getting better as the day went on.

Suddenly, voices sounded outside the room, and something (or someone?) was slammed against the door. Careful not to make any sound, Nora dove under the bed just as the door burst open.

A rough voice spoke in a harsh language that was definitely European, ordering someone around. Then the bigger person exited the room, slamming the door shut. The other, smaller being stood just inches from Nora's face.

She waited, trying to keep as still and quiet as possible. The boy—she assumed it was a boy—began to cry. He sat down on the bed, causing it to creak and sag dangerously low to her head.

After a few minutes, Nora grew impatient. _It's not as if he's a fully-fledged nazi! He's just a kid, like me. (Admittedly a little older, but whatever.)_

She took a deep breath, and said, "Hey!"

The crying abruptly stopped.

She repeated herself, now having his attention. "Hey! Nazi-boy! Do you have any extra clothes?"

Erik Lensherr did not understand much English at this point in his life. So all he got out of that sentence was 'Nazi' and some sort of 'hello'.

The voice seemed to be coming from under his bed, but when he crouched down to look, all Erik saw was a flash of bare skin before he was kicked away by a tiny, pale foot.

 _Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!_ Nora screamed internally. The onslaught of memories was small, but painful nonetheless _._

 _Separation._

 _Loss._

 _Anger._

 _Power._

 _Fear._

 _Pain._

And the Nora realized that she could now speak, read, write, and understand perfect Polish.

She really didn't have this whole 'power' thing figured out yet.

 _"Sorry,"_ she murmured to the boy—whose name she now knew to be Erik.

He was confused, _so now she speaks Polish?_ He pulled his sock back up from where the girl had kicked his bare shin.

 _"_ _Why did you do that?"_ he asked.

 _"_ _You startled me,"_ Nora said, pulling herself up and out from under the bed. As she did this, she tugged the sheets off the bed and wrapped them around herself.

Though she was only seven, Erik was twelve and he blushed like mad at this. Nora gratefully took the extra set of clothes that he offered.

They sat cross-legged, facing one another, each trying to figure the other out.

 _"_ _Who are you?"_ he asked, confused and intrigued by the new arrival. How had she gotten into the camp—let alone his room—without getting caught? There was no way… unless…

 _"_ _In case you're wondering,"_ she said, recalling some of Erik's borrowed memories, as well as his inability to trust people. _"I am not one of Schmidt's."_

 _"_ _All right then,"_ Erik said, still unsure of whether or not to trust her.

 _"_ _My name is Nora,"_ she said, answering his original question.

He nodded, obviously still confused.

So for the rest of the afternoon they talked. (In whispers of course, so they wouldn't be heard.) Nora lied about her abilities, saying that she had somehow teleported into his room. (Who knows what Erik would do if he knew that she was a time-traveller.) And Erik was astonished that there was another person out there like him: someone else with powers.

Then she let him vent—though Nora knew everything that had happened in his life up to this point. (From him always looking forward to the bit of light Hanukkah brought to his dismal life, to the horrific experiments that he'd endured over the past few weeks) It was nice to have someone relatable to talk to.

And as it turns out: their lives had a few uncanny resemblances.

Dead family member(s)? (Also known as the only people that ever cared about them.) Check.

Semi-uncontrollable powers? (That had somehow assisted in the death of said family member(s).) Check.

All-around shitty lives up until they point that they had met each other? Check.

The list went on.

* * *

They talked from mid-afternoon all the way into the evening. Despite everything that had happened earlier (in 1962), the drastic turn of events had made it one of the better days of Nora's way-too-strange-for-a-seven-year-old life. (Even with the attempted kidnapping, bloody nose that made it feel as if her brains were bleeding out, and the painful-as-heck time-travelling experience.)

Everything went well, that is, until dinner arrived.

Suddenly, a sharp knocking on the door interrupted their hushed conversation.

 _"_ _Open up, boy! Dinner is here!"_

Shocked out of their relaxed stupor, Erik and Nora jumped up. Making wild gestures, Erik pointed under the bed. Nora shook her head. _No, there wasn't enough time._

 _"Boy?"_

Erik put his hands over his mouth: he was going to be in so much trouble.

Nora stopped his pacing by putting her hands on his shoulders—though she had to stand on her tiptoes because of the height difference.

 _"_ _It will be all right,"_ she whispered.

Erik took a deep breath, while Nora hid directly behind the door's hinges. _A butt hinge placed on the inside of the door, on my left. That means it will open into the room and to my right._ If her calculations were correct, the door should be opened at an angle where it would hide her from sight.

They stared at each other and nodded. Erik opened the door.

While he received his dinner, Nora concentrated. She tried to focus on the time she came from, everything about her school: the textiles department, the playground she hated, the library she loved, and the surprisingly-comfortable closet where she slept. She needed to make the lights go bright again, even if it meant her head hurting that badly. She would gladly go back.

But when she was trying to trigger that power within her, Nora closed her eyes. This led her not to notice that the mirror was stationed directly on the wall of the opposite side of the room. Had she noticed the mirror, she might have moved out of the delivery-man's line of sight.

But she didn't notice it.

And she was seen.

Erik practically slammed the door shut in the nazi's face. Breathing heavily, they grinned at each other, convinced that their plan had worked.

 _"Bread?"_ He asked, offering her some of his meagre supper.

Nora gratefully accepted, but as she bit into the stale chunk of clumped-together wheat she cried out.

"Ow!" She spat it onto the floor.

Affronted, Erik thought, _who does she think she is?_ Appearing under his bed, unannounced? He'd tried to be nice, he'd even give her some of his only food until morning (and that was no guarantee), and now she'd spat it out like it was trash! (Although it really was…) He was still quite offended until she showed him why she had spat out the bread.

 _"_ _My tooth came out!" s_ he said, holding it up in awe.

Smiling at the young girls fascination, Erik soberly dug into his own half of the bread. For them there was no creature that came in the night, leaving gifts for their toothache. For them there was just more pain. He watched as Nora once again bit into her bread, but instead of crying out, she cringed and held a hand to her forehead.

 _"_ _It's not that bad, is it?"_ he asked.

 _"No,"_ she said. _"My head just hurts…" s_ he paused, _"I think it's almost time for me to go back."_

Erik frowned, _"You're leaving me?"_

Nora nodded apologetically. _"I must return home."_ That was a lie; she had no home.

Concerned, his eyes focused on her face.

 _"Nora,"_ he said, sounding very confused. _"Your face is glowing."_

"What?!" She grabbed at her cheek and felt a slight heat coming off of it. When her hand came down, it too was shining a bright gold.

 _It's time._

Streams of light began to circle her hand and face, then her whole arm and neck.

And _that's_ when all hell broke loose

The bedroom door burst open, soldiers streaming into the room, followed by a man who just _reeked_ authority. All the newcomers to the scene yelled in rapid-fire German—all except for the man in the suit.

Sebastian Shaw—as he would eventually be known—did not get much from the scene. All he saw was his little experiment shocked out of his pale skin. And behind little Erik Lensherr... Well, Shaw never did figure out what he saw that day.

Even after weeks of interrogation, Erik did not divulge what had happened in the room. All they had been able to get out of him was that there had been someone else in there.

Someone else: another one like—no: _similar_ to Erik. A child who'd disappeared in a flash of bright light.


	5. Chapter 3Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men.**

* * *

Attempted Recruitment Part 2/Chapter 5

Several hours had passed between Nora's disappearance and her return to the school. Since the principal was still drugged up on Emma Frost's mind control, the usual uproar one would expect from a student going missing was not there upon her return.

When the light receded, Nora found herself—once again—lying on the cold tiles of the girls' washroom. Just like before, she was naked. Gone were the European boy's clothes, and her t-shirt and pants from earlier in the day were nowhere to be seen.

She slowly opened the washroom door and crept out into the hallway. The analog clock on the wall read 10:00 pm. School ended at three; had she really been gone for over seven hours? It felt much shorter than that.

She knew the janitor routinely skipped the textiles room on Fridays, so Nora quickly scampered down the hallway, pausing only at the door to the administration office to peek in the window.

He was still there, his 'condition' seemingly undiscovered. It seemed like Principal O'Connor was asleep, until Nora saw his eyes. They were open, but rolled back into the his head. Only the whites of his eyes showed, and there was practically a _river_ of drool dribbling out his mouth.

Nora grimaced. P _oor guy: who knows if he'll ever recover from this…_ She moved past the principal's office, heading for her part of the school.

Once she got there, Nora settled down in her 'secret closet' (AKA the fabric room.) She pulled her alarm out of its hiding place, (at the bottom of a box containing the fleece and flannelette—no one ever used those fabrics) and set it for 7:00 am. Nora was looking forward to the weekend.

Then, _finally,_ she let herself sleep.

* * *

On Monday, Nora woke up five minutes before her alarm. She got out of her box-bed (she was rather small) and bent at the waist, touching her toes with ease. She relished in the thought of a new day, that is, until she remembered the events of the previous Friday.

She got dressed in an extra set of clothes, (stored on one of the higher shelves). Using the spare key stored in the main office, Nora stole into the staff room and had a glass of water and a muffin. (She hated bran, but it would have to do.)

Brushing her teeth in the boys' washroom (Nora didn't think she'd ever be able to set foot in the girls' again), she inspected a bruise on her right shoulder. (She'd gotten it when diving under Erik's bed.) Conveniently, the sleeve on that _same shoulder_ was ripped. Now she'd have to wear her older, more lint-covered shirt.

Giving up after a painful three minutes, Nora sighed. _Oh well. Some things just can't be helped._ She stared dismally at the messy state of her curls before grabbing her backpack (which she kept on her at all times) and rushing out of the school.

Nora spent the few hours before school in the Westchester Library, probably one of the safest, least populated parts of the district. She returned to school just in time to see an ambulance peal away, sirens screaming. Undoubtedly, the Principal was being taken to the hospital, only to be confined to a tube-feeder for the rest of his miserable life.

The school day went off as if nothing had happened: as if the principal weren't in a telepathy-induced coma. Nora assumed all of the staff knew why he went away (or at least whatever they thought the reason was) because they seemed a little jumpy.

Vice Principal Miller had temporarily taken over. Nora liked him. He was a cheerful man, always telling people to call him "just Miller" and giving out high fives in the hallway.

But just after recess, something strange happened. Nora was called to the office.

 _"Please excuse the interruption; would Nora Greyson please come to the Principal's office."_ The secretary's robotic-like voice echoed over the intercom, causing Nora to jerk up from her math workbook.

She shakily stood up from her desk, already feeling her cheeks redden. Nora trudged to the front of the class. One foot in front of the other, step by step. She felt the eager eyes of the other twenty-four students boring holes into her back.

The classroom was so silent, one could hear a pin drop.

The teacher looked up, shocked that the angel-like Nora Greyson had been called into the office. Through the year she'd been here, she had never made so much as a blip of the teacher's radar. _Oh well,_ the teacher nodded her out the door. _Maybe it had something to do with those elusive parents of hers…_

Never. Not once in Nora's near nine-month stay at Westchester Elementary had her oh-so-important ambassador parents come to pick her up from school.

* * *

Nora was freaking out. She walked as slowly as her feet would allow her, trying to delay the inevitability of her reaching the dreaded principal's office.

Why _now_ had she been called down? It had never happened before.. Could it have something to do with last week's events? No. It couldn't… Right? How could anyone know how much of a 'special interest' Ms. Frost had taken in her.

Maybe they had figured out her true, or rather, lack of parentage? If so, they would have definitely come to the conclusion of her being an orphan. Maybe… maybe they had figured out about what had happened in Brooklyn… But what would happen to her now?

She had tried. Nora had tried to draw as little attention to herself as possible. She had average grades, she'd never spoken out unless called upon, and she'd made sure to _never_ stand out.

So why now had she been called upon?

Nora kept pondering these thoughts as her feet pulled her into the office. The secretary glanced over her desktop before saying, "Door to the left, sweetheart."

Nora nodded, shuffling off in said direction.

The door was already propped open, and voices could be heard chatting merrily from the inside. It seemed to take an eternity, but she eventually got to the half-open entrance and slipped inside.

"Nora!" The Vice-Principal got up cheerily from his seat and crossed the room, welcoming her inside.

He led her around the two people sitting in front of the mahogany desk and turned her to face them.

'Nora," he said again, and gestured to the pair sitting before them. "These two men are here to see you." Though frowning at her blank stare, he continued on nonetheless. "They are here to talk to you about… Well, I haven't exactly been told that. I'll let them make the introductions."

He left, nodding at the shorter of the two as her exited the room.

An uncomfortable silence accumulated in the Vice-Principal's wake, but was suddenly broken by the scraping of a chair being pushed across the floor.

The taller of the two men had stumbled up and out of his chair. He stared at Nora, eyes wide. His hands shook and, little did she notice, the stapler on the desk had begun to inch towards him.

The shorter man looked up at his partner in confusion. They were silent for a minute, but Nora knew those looks. The two of them had some sort of silent conversation before the tall man left he room, muttering to himself on the way out.

"I must apologize for my colleague," Nora returned her gaze to the short, dark-haired male. "He has… other engagements."

You didn't have to be a genius to tell he was lying; it seemed that he wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was.

"Please," he got up and reached out to shake Nora's hand. "My name is Charles Xavier."

She denied the contact, choosing instead to sit shock still in her chair and stare a hole through his head.

 _Hmm, adverse to skin-on-skin contact? Could that have something to do with her mutation?_

Charles was taken aback by the girl's demeanour. She was unlike any other child he had ever seen. She held herself with an air of innocence (most likely faked) and a modest uncertainty of all her surroundings.

"Why are you here?"

She seemed demure and mouse-like with those big eyes and dark, bushy hair. But there was something about those eyes that set Charles off. Something eerie. Something powerful. Something… dangerous?

He cleared his throat, "Well Nora, I come from the CIA with a request-"

All she had to hear was 'CIA' and Nora was up and out of her chair, backing away from the stranger. The words blurted out of her mouth before she could stop them, "I didn't mean to! Please don't take me away!"

Now he was really confused. He tried to enter her mind, but when he did, Charles reeled back from the shrill, insane confusion that was this _child's_ consciousness.

"It's alright," he said in an attempt to calm her down. "I'm not here to take you away…" His voice trailed off, showing Nora one of the five definite signs that he was lying.

"You're lying," she muttered to herself as well as him. "Just like _le démon_ , you're here to kidnap me!" She pointed an accusatory finger at him.

 _Le démon? The demon? Oh no…_ That mean Azazel and Frost had already been here. Charles knew that he had to tread very carefully in these next few moments. And there was no way he'd let Erik intervene. This was a child: he would _not_ take her by force. There was one other path he thought of. Charles put two fingers to his temple…

Before she knew it, Nora heard—much like Ms. Frost had done—a voice enter her head. Though it seemed _gentler_ than the woman in white, it still brought back the terrible feeling of intrusion in one of her few supposedly-uninvadvable places. Nora shrieked and clamped her hands over her ears, unsuccessfully trying to block out the man's telepathic message.

This was it, the last straw. Her scream alerted a multitude of people to the strange situation, and the Vice-Principal wasted no time barging in on them. While Charles was dragged back, seemingly unconscious, Nora discretely placed one hand behind her back. It seemed silly, but snapping her fingers was a sort of trigger.

So that's what she did.

And time stopped.

Nora pushed past Charles' frozen form, tears streaming down her face. She returned only to the classroom to grab her backpack. Equipped only with the clothes on her person and a few possessions, Nora left the life she had built in the past eleven months behind.

She walked briskly through the still-frozen-in-time streets of Westchester, New York, boarded a bus headed for Oregon and never looked back.

* * *

But what she didn't realize, until two weeks later, was that it had been exactly 365 days—one year—to the day that she had arrived in the twentieth century.

And it wasn't until many years later that she discovered the importance of that.

* * *

 **Thoughts?**


	6. Chapter 4Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello! Thank you to everyone who's favourited/followed/reviewed: it all means so much to me that people are reading and enjoying this story. :D**

 **I really enjoyed writing this chapter, however, a relevant warning: at a later point in this chapter, the story takes a dive into the mind of someone considering suicide. They don't kill themselves, but I though a warning would be for the best.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men.**

* * *

Chapter 4/Chapter 6

She was getting old. Nora could feel it in her bones, in the skin that stretched around her scalp. Her pale skin was creased with many a wrinkle, and her joints would not allow her to move as she once had. Grey streaked her hair in uneven stripes, making her look like the (shorter) bride of Frankenstein.

All considered, her spry nature still remained. Though these days she found it difficult to do a spinning back-kick…

* * *

When the massacre of '99 occurred, it was Nora who rallied the X-Men up from their mourning. It was Nora who'd been able to go back and change the Battle of Westchester in good's favour. It was _Nora_ who had united the Brotherhood and X-Men when they could no longer afford to fight against each other.

Against the Sentinels.

But it was Nora who never fully recovered from the death of Scarlet Witch.

She found consolation in her husband, Pietro Maximoff. But it often seemed that even _he_ was not enough. Still, Quicksilver was the only thing tethering Clockwork to her sanity.

After everything that had happened -all the death and pain they'd lived through- Nora and Peter had been given a new chance at their happy ending.

But nothing lasts forever.

* * *

 _Xavier Mansion, 2014_

"Where's Peter?"

Those were the only words Nora could think to say. Not 'how are you', not 'anything interesting happen outside' (the 'outside' being outside the mansion as she was confined to the premises.) Not even to ask if them if they had managed to find any of that delicious chocolate fudge that had once been sold in New York's Central Park.

"Where's Peter?"

He had gone on a scouting mission with Erik, Kitty and Jubilee three days ago.

Two days too many…

But now, three shapes had appeared in the fog shrouding the institute.

All three of them were easily recognizable as Erik (with his silly cape), Jubilee (she was still glowing a bit), and Kitty. (No one else but Nora was that short.)

But he wasn't there.

He was always the first back, zipping into their bedroom to report and help her update the timeline.

Whatever had happened: the food count, if any Sentinels had been roaming near by, and the death toll—if there were any…

Nora pulled her leather jacket tighter around her torso as a vicious wind ripped past. She pushed her scarlet glasses back up into position—it was an old habit—then ran out to meet the trio.

They were more battered and bruised than usual, and it looked as if Jubilee had broken her leg. This had clearly been a different fight.

A few others had also run out to meet the returning three. Kitty and Jubilee were helped back into the house. But Erik stayed.

Nervously twisting her wedding ring around her finger, Nora couldn't bring herself to ask. Peter would be here any minute now; in a second he'd be by her side and they would all go in for coffee. He would be here. He had to… He'd promised.

But he wasn't. The unescapable silence filled her up with an uncomfortable feeling she'd only felt only a few times before. Nora looked up to see Erik, just standing here, clutching something in his right fist.

"I'm sorry," he said.

No.

He couldn't be. It was wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen: he was suppose to live…

Nora breathed in sharply. She could save him.

"How long?" she asked quietly.

Erik said nothing, only shook his head.

"How long?" she asked again, voice rising.

"It's been a day: over the limit."

He brushed past her, heading towards the mansion, and dropped whatever he'd been holding to the misty grass.

Now she didn't bother holding back the tears. Nora let them fall in rivets down her cheeks.

Before she could stop herself, she screamed, "I'M SORRY?!"

Erik stopped.

 _"_ _That's ALL you have to say!?"_ Nora screeched, reverting back to her native french. She stomped up to him and shoved Erik forward.

 _"_ _He was your son, for God's sake!"_

As Erik spoke fluent french, he understood every word. So Nora was shocked into silence when he spun around and grabbed her by the jacket collar.

"You think I don't know that?" he growled, reeling her in until they were practically nose to nose.

Staring into his war-torn eyes, Nora watched a single tear flow down his face.

"I may not have been as close to him as you were; but I cared for him nonetheless." After a moment of intense silence, Erik threw Nora away from him and strode back towards the house.

She sat there, not bothering to move or get up. Nora curled into a ball on the ground, and let sorrow consume her.

The mansion grounds were silent as the mutants took vigil for the loss of one of their own. The only sounds were the wracking sobs of a single widow.

Feet moved across the grass towards her; someone was coming. The figure stopped when they reached Nora. He stared down at her, his usually gruff face now showing an unusual mixture of sadness and sympathy.

"Get up." It was Logan.

When she didn't make any move to do so, he sighed and hauled her up by the underarms. Once she was on her feet, Nora didn't waste any time in scooping up what Erik had dropped.

Peter's goggles. She'd always teased him about them, arguing that he looked like a silver-haired fish whenever he wore them. She clutched the grey eyepiece to her chest. _Was this all there was left of him?_

"Come on," Logan said in a desperate attempt to guide her back into the house.

She stepped away from him, "No."

"What?"

"No. I'm not going back in there. You. Can't. Make me."

Logan sighed, "Listen Nora, you-"

"No!" She pointed a finger to his chest. " _You_ listen. I am not going back into that place! Not now!" She took a deep breath. "Do you have any idea of what it's like? Being cooped up in the same house? Day after day; week after week. Months… Years…" her voice trailed off.

Discretely trying to get ahold of her wrist, Logan tried to talk some sense into her. But Nora wasn't having any of it. She yanked her arm out of his grasp, and stumbled back a few feet.

"I know why you're doing it," she murmured.

"No, you don't underst-"

"Yes, I do! You keep me in there—when I could be out _there_!" she gestured to the world beyond the fog. "Helping people, Logan. _Our_ people!" She ran a shaking hand through her grey-streaked hair. "You keep me back here because you 'need' me. You confine me to the institute in some desperate effort to change things! The only reason I'm still here is because _just in case_ I end up going back… You want to control my power so you can change the past. It won't work: I've tried."

A few others had exited the mansion, but Logan waved them back.

"I get what you're trying to do… And it needs to be done. But I'm not the person to do it."

What? Now he was officially confused. "What're you talking about, Nora?" You're the only time-traveler on the radar."

"He didn't tell you, did he?" She tucked the goggles into her jacket pocket. "He doesn't tell people much nowadays…" She paused. "It's been years, Logan… It's not that I don't want to… it's just that I can't. Not- Not since-" She clamped a hand over her mouth as the thought of her friend brought tears to her eyes.

"Wanda," he said.

Nora nodded. She had begun to lose it years ago—her mind, that is. It had started with Eden, then Wanda…Until today… when she'd been pushed to her full capacity with Peter's… _His_ death. Over these terrible years, she had retreated further and further into her broken mind. The professor had of course tried to help, but there was no remedy for her swelling insanity.

Breaking the silence, Nora giggled.

"I'm gone, Logan—have been for years now." She snorted, then giggled again. "I'm surprised it took you all this long to realize it…Though, I guess I'm not that surprised… We all live in the same house, yet hardly any of you even bother to give me the _time of day!_ "

Logan stared at her in shock. The Professor had eluded to this, but he had never suspected it had got this bad. "Nora," he pleaded, trying to bring her back. "You know that isn't true."

"Oh do fuck off, Logan," she said in such a peppy tone, making him realize that she was beyond help. He hadn't realized how much stress she'd been pushing through all these years. How much had been put on her shoulders once the war began.

They really had been ignoring her. All of them.

And now she—and they—would have to pay the price.

She felt the sensation of liquid pooling on her upper lip, and Nora knew that only meant one thing. She haphazardly smeared the blood across her nose in an attempt to wipe it off.

Noticing this, Logan made a move towards her. But he was abruptly stopped by a knife-end in his face.

"You're all finally getting your wish!" Nora grinned—but it wasn't the happy kind. "In a few seconds, I'll be gone!"

Logan's eyes widened; "Come on then; we need to get you back to the house. _So you'll be safe._ "

Spinning around on the steel toe of her boot, Nora let out a maniacal laugh. "Oh I won't be coming back this time, Logan-dearest. In fact, I won't be returning for a long, long while!"

She glowed, the light emitting from every pore in her body. It was so bright. Everyone had to look away.

Everyone except Logan, who shouted, "No!"

He ran forward, tried to stop her. But it was too late. In the five steps it took him to get to her, there was naught but a cloud of air to grab at.

Nora, their last hope, had disappeared. She left only a pile of clothes, two different sets of eyepieces and a wedding ring.

* * *

 _January 3rd, 1972._ _Salem, Massachusetts._

She stood on the railing, hands braced against two metal beams: balanced. So close to the edge that she could almost feel the fresh spray of the waters below. She was ready. She hadn't been for months, but she was now.

Ready to die.

She had to do this for the sake of those who would come too close, and for her own personal guilt.

Another had died today. His had been the first death since the nurse's. She had broken her vow. Another innocent person had died because of her.

It may not seem like much, but the deaths of three people within one's first sixteen years of life? Too much on one pair of shoulders.

She was dangerous; a threat to the human race. _And beings that threaten the well-being of humanity need to be eliminated._ That's what the man on the radio said.

She was an atom bomb, just waiting to go off. Unstable. Unpredictable: one of the enemy.

She was a murderer. A killer with tremendous power that had no hope of ever being controlled.

She was almost there. She could feel it now: the weightlessness of falling, then the cold rush of a thousand tonnes of water. Each one welcoming her soon-to-be corpse.

Nothing. She would feel nothing as the murky depths of the river pulled her down. Though, perhaps she _would_ feel something. Maybe she'd be battered around the rocks for a while before a sharp impact to the skull finished everything off.

But she was okay with that; okay with a little bit of pain before the sweet release of death. A bit of pain was good now and then; it was natural. She had the scars to prove it.

Just one more step: that's all she needed. One more step and it would all be over.

Her toe inched forward. Nearly half of her foot was off the ledge. Another inch and she would be-

"Wait!"

"Ahh!" Nora squawked in fright at the sound of the voice. She swayed dangerously over the edge before falling back onto the concrete.

It took her a second to realize what had happened.

 _She was alive._ She hadn't fallen; hadn't drowned; hadn't died. Once Nora became aware of this fact a surging feeling swelled up in her stomach. She tried to get up, but just fell back down as the meagre contents of her stomach chose to exit the premises. She threw up on the roadside, coughs and sobs filled up the spaces between her gagging.

She felt a comforting hand on her back, making slow, soothing circles. The same voice which had 'saved' her life now whispered small words of encouragement.

"That's it, honey," said the woman, "just let it all out…"

At this, Nora scrambled away from her (she wasn't big on physical contact), staring at her incredulously as if to say: _just who do you think you are?_

"Okay," the woman took a few steps backwards, raising her hands in a gesture of peace. "Just relax, all right?" She offered Nora a hand up, but was denied as the disgruntled teen shakily stood up on her own.

"Hey," the woman asked as Nora turned away. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

She rolled her eyes, "It was a rhetorical question. Nobody ready to jump off a bridge in the middle of the night is _fine_."

Nora scoffed, _just who does this lady think she is? There's no way she's any kind of therapist. (And if she is, I'm definitely smarter than her.) Unless she's the kind of person who goes for oddly-timed walks at night near unpopulated bridges… Which, actually is not a bad thing in my case because I was about to ju- Never mind! Mind. On. Task. New Mission: evade strange, yet helpful, too-nosey-for-her-own-good woman._

"You _were_ going to jump, weren't you?" Ugh, she was still here?

Nora grumbled and turned to face her saviour. "What's it to you?"

The woman took a step forward; "nothing, nothing at all." She grimaced, "It's just that I know _exactly_ how you're feeling right now."

"Hah! There it is!" Nora laughed and threw her hands up in victory. "Who sent you?! Was it the school?" I swear that counsellor's been starin' at me for weeks!" Her tone changed, "Or maybe you're FBI! CIA?… Government official of any sort?"

The older woman stared at the deranged teenager with a mixture of shock and pity. What had caused her to become like this? She was too young for this. Too young to have come this close to taking her own life.

The woman had known someone like this once; someone who had tried _so_ many times to disappear from the world.

"I'm not FBI, or any type of government agent, for that matter. I'm just like you: another human being. Just a regular person—like any other—who's made mistakes"

Nora's curly mop of hair was covering her face when the woman said this, so the twitch that crossed her face remained unseen.

"Why should I care about the mistakes you've made?"

"That's a good point," the woman chuckled, then deadpanned; "and it's really none of your business."

Nora was taken aback by her suddenly serious tone. "Umhuhumm… Sorry?"

The woman smiled; _so there_ is _something else under that rough exterior._

"Believe me Beverly, I know how you're feeling. I've been where you're at now."

"Whatever," Nora huffed.

"And the thing I found helped best was having someone to talk to."

Nora sighed, "Okay, but none of tha- Wait! How do you know my name?!"

The woman ran a hand through her equally curly—albeit less poofy—hair. "You're her, aren't you? Beverly Maise: the girl who's on all the posters. The one who's been missing for the past three weeks… You and that other boy… What was his name again? Tom-"

"Don't say it," Nora growled, tears welling back up in her eyes. "Don't say his name."

Readjusting the headband holding back her grey hair, the woman said, "You went missing, along with him, weeks ago. The whole school's in uproar… They think you two eloped or something…"

Nora laughed, "If only it had been that!"

"So you do know what happened to him!"

 _Ack! How did she keep doing that?_ Nora couldn't deny it, she was good.

"Yes," she said. "I do know what happened to him… But if you wanna talk to me about my suicidal intentions, then we don't mention Tom— _him_ , again. All right?"

"Fair enough," the woman settled down on the curb and patted the space next to her invitingly. Nora sat down begrudgingly, pushing her glasses back up her nose.

"All right," she said. "Say your piece."


	7. Chapter 5Chapter 7

Chapter 5/Chapter 7

 _Silver Spring, Montgomery County, Maryland. January 9th, 1972._

New name, new home, new town (or city/county in this case), new school.

Nora had to leave everything behind; both figuratively and literally. The life she'd built back in Salem, the habits she'd accumulated there, the name she'd gone by for the last four months.

 _Beverly._ Before that it had been Diane; before that: Susan. It was easy to change a name: she just had to get used to writing it down. But it held an emotional weight in her heart. Every time she made her new ID papers, it was like getting punched in the face. A punch in the face that said 'you're still running. _Stop running.'_

Attachments were bad. Nora had known that for years. That was why she no longer went by her given name.

 _Brie? Grace? No, she'd already had those…_

Attachments to people were especially dangerous—for her identity as well as her conscience. Nora only allowed herself to keep a few personal items from her past lives. They were usually books, or a particularly comfortable sweater.

Though she should have thrown it away years ago, Nora still kept the piece of glass from the hospital. It was probably the worst thing to keep, but ever since that day in the police station she'd never been able to shake off the feeling that she _needed_ it.

Whether it benefitted her or not, Nora allowed herself to keep that one tether to her past.

 _Greta? No,_ that _sounded too much like Gretel, which was German._

Even though the Americans had won the war, they still harboured a lot of hatred towards the Germans.

 _Mavis?_ No... She didn't like the sound of that one.

"Ugh," Nora got up from the table strewn with papers. She left the small place she called the dining room and headed into the kitchen. Grabbing a coke from the cooler, she settled down into the lotus position and bowed her head.

Nora had found this abandoned apartment building on the outskirts of town. She'd checked the town archives to discover that it had been on the market for the past six years. The owners had obviously left long ago, with the grungy, peeling wallpaper, plumbing in desperate need of repair, and the many shingles missing from the rooftop.

Even with Nora's genius intellect, _and_ the technician/plumber's skills she'd acquired a while back (all it took was skin-to-skin contact), it had taken her three hours to get everything up and running.

This was how she lived: taking shelter in ever-changing, abandoned abodes; forging a new identity for herself and her "parents" whenever she moved towns. (Usually every six months.)

Nora made sure to always pick the worst-looking, lowest-budget schools she could find. She did this because those were the schools that cared the least about authenticity. She usually didn't have to worry about them asking for her parents. Besides, even if they did, Nora kept up the story that they were international ambassadors for the UN and rarely returned home.

Absentmindedly picking at the faded green wallpaper, Nora remembered the title of a book she'd once read.

 _Anne of Green Gables._ She did a quick back check through her vast collection of memories (most of which, weren't her's) to make sure she hadn't used either aliases before. After a moment of concentration, she was sure; this was it.

* * *

 _January 13th._

 _"Merde, merde, merde,_ oh shit, shit, shit," Nora muttered to herself, switching back and forth between French and English.

She was—as always—late. Classes started at 9:00 sharp, and it was -what time was it again? She made a quick estimate; if she'd left the house at 8:45, walked for five minutes in normal time, then walked ten minutes with everything paused; then approximately seven minutes back on regular time... Then that meant it was 8:57?

"Oh merde..." _Curse my screwed-up memory!_ Nora quickened her walk to a jog as she rounded the final corner to her new school.

On second thought, curse her entire array of over-powered, life-ruiningly-annoying abilities.

Nora knew there was no specific name for all the powers she had when combined into one person (which was exactly her situation), so she had separated them into their own categories.

First off was her above-average intelligence. (And by 'above-average', she had the 'could-have-graduated-high-school-years-ago' level.) As well as her useful (yet also annoying) tendency to remember _everything_ she ever read, saw, or was taught.

Then there was the troubling fact that whenever she made skin-to-skin contact with some poor, innocent soul… Well, to put it simply: she basically had all of their memories, experiences, skills and habits stored inside her mind.

So, when her naked body had been wrapped in the jacket belonging to one Timothy Walker eleven years ago, his hand had brushed her shoulder. And in that instant she had received all the knowledge of his past twenty years of life (which really wasn't that much.) However, the skills Nora hadn't put to use from Timothy eventually retired to the very back of her mind. The only thing that truly remained of their accidental contact was Nora's frequent habit of cursing in opportune instances.

The last (but most certainly not the least) section of her abilities: Nora could manipulate time. To pause time (and when she did that, it stopped across the entire world) she needed a trigger (like snapping her fingers.) Stopping time was definitely the easiest and most-controllable of all her powers.

She could also slow down and speed up the flow of it all. (This sure came in handy for those dreary school days…)

And finally, there was the worst part of her curse. The one that was the cause of everything that had happened to her.

She could travel through time. It was as simple—or as complicated—as that.

But that's not the last of it: there were two _very_ different subsections that her time-travelling abilities were divided into.

The first part she could control, much like pausing time—with a snap of her fingers. In this type of time travel she controlled when she went. The _one_ setback to this control was that she could only travel up to one day into the past.

The second part was somewhat less complicated than the first. It also hurt more, by about ten bashes to the skull. In this branch of time-travel, Nora went back through any amount of time from a few decades to a few centuries.

She had no control over this 'ability'. It happened at least two times a month, and was completely unpredictable in when it would occur. However there were technically a _few_ signs. Bleeding noses and strenuous finger cramps were usually-dependable examples.

Nora knew what she was.

Abnormal.

Freak.

 _Mutant._

She hated being like this. It was because of _this_ that she'd lost her sister and home.

Nora had been lost the moment she left her century. She'd tried everything to get back… To go back to that terrible day and change what happened.

It had been ten years (or 600, depending on how you counted) since she'd arrived in the 1900's, and Nora didn't know why she hadn't ended it years ago… it wouldn't be that hard. (It was far too easy to acquire a gun in this country.)

Perhaps it was because she was waiting.

But waiting for what?

Or maybe it was because she'd already given up.

Nora reached the front steps just as the late bell rang. She was alone on the grounds, excepting a few others who were getting one last smoke in before class.

Tugging her jacket tighter around her torso, Nora stared at the ground as she walked past the intimidating group of teens

The girl who looked like the leader stared her retreating form up and down before scoffing unappreciatively and returning to her smoke.

* * *

"So I'll just need you to sign your name here," the secretary pointed out.

"All right," Nora responded, being _very_ careful to sign _Anne_ instead of _Beverly._ (She'd practiced her new signature the night before.)

"And your parents'll need to sign _here_ and _here_." The secretary tapped a garishly-painted fingernail on the two blank spaces next to where Nora had signed her name.

Oh. Right: _parents._

"Um, when does this have to be back in? Because my parents aren't home right now… You see, they're international ambassadors for the UN, and… they're rarely… home…"

Damn. Had she oversold it? The secretary stared at her with raised eyebrows and an unimpressed expression on her face.

"Just get it in as soon as you can, dear."

Nora nodded. _Okay, disaster averted._

The secretary gestured to a row of chairs near the door to the main office; "You can sit over there and copy out your schedule. Just ask if you need any help."

Nora got the impression that she had enough on her plate already, so she chose to struggle through the layout of this new timetable. It was quiet in the school, the occasional pair of footsteps and the secretary's incessant typing being the only noises.

"Goddamn it, Pietro!" A voice came out of nowhere, causing Nora to jump in her seat. She whirled around, only to see the back of a girl sprinting down the hallway, lugging what seemed like a large instrument case behind her.

"You and your fucking, bitch-ass girlfriend! I don't even understand how we're always late?! And this was my last strike too! Baker said if I was late _one more time_ I'd get detention! -And I'm his best student!" The girl's voice faded off into the distance.

The secretary's frowning face had jerked up at the foul language, but she only shook her head and returned to her work.

The only answer to the girl's retreating tirade was a jovial laugh and a gust of wind that blew through the office. Papers flew every-which-way, and the door slammed shut with a surprising force.

"Thought it was supposed to be calm today…" muttered the secretary as she got up slammed the window shut.

Nora had kept a strong grip on her papers, though the ink was a little smudged. "Um, where do I get my books?" she asked.

"Books are to be collected from the music room on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, see Mr. James for more details.

Today was Thursday, but she was already late enough.

Nora blew on the paper to dry the ink. It was a simple schedule, eight classes in total; four a day, that alternated every second day, with an hour lunch- break to boot!

Checking over everything, Nora noticed something out of place.

 _French, first period, Day Two, Week Two._

 _Wait a minute! French?!_

"Um, about my language: I signed up for Spanish, not French." She was already fluent in French, and Nora only knew the small bit of Spanish that she'd picked up from a motel cleaning lady. (She'd been bedridden for three days, after the bustling of the woman had caused Nora's brain to convert everything to Spanish.)

The secretary—whose name Nora had finally gleaned from the nameplate on the desk: _Mrs. Reese—_ sighed and moved a stray hair from her hairdo. "I'm sorry to say" —she really wasn't— "that due to lack of interest, the Spanish course was unable to continue this semester. _Apparently_ , everyone wants to be like those _frogs_."

Nora had to try very hard to keep from punching her. Instead she simply said, "Oh."

There was no sense in dilly-dallying any longer, so Nora took one of the school maps from a plastic bin next to the door and left to find her French class.

* * *

It didn't take her too long, though it may have been more trouble for any normal teenager. Room 22C was exactly down the hall (to the left of the main office) up the _right_ set of stairs, and through the fourth door on the left from the library.

It took Nora (at a brisk walk) one minute and thirteen seconds (according to her damaged internal clock) to get there. It was twenty-five minutes into first period by the time she opened the classroom door.

It was dead quiet.

Twenty-eight pairs of eyes all looked up from their respective papers to stare down the newcomer. Nora shuffled awkwardly in her sneakers past the front row of desks, towards the teacher.

He was a grumpy-looking, dark-haired, slightly-hunchbacked man named Mr. Mull. (according to her timetable) He wore a wrinkled brown suit and a permanently-tired expression on his face. It seemed that he'd given up on showing up presentable for work—that certainly told Nora a lot about the class.

She handed him the late pass that Mrs. Reese had given her. "I'm new."

He sighed and returned to his desk. "Well it's only the fifth day of semester." He handed her a thick paper booklet; "There's no need to finish the entire thing," _and it's not like you could,_ said his eyes. "Just get as much done as you can before the end of period.

She nodded uncertainly and turned down the row of desks - there were two empty seats at the back. She headed in that direction, readjusting her backpack strap.

But Nora hardly made it two steps before a foot shot out into the aisle and she was sent sprawling.

"Eeeach!" She squeaked as gravity took its toll.

The class erupted into laughter; the guy who had tripped her systematically high-fiving his friend seated behind him. Mr. Mull tried settling the class down but he was unable to control the teenagers—as usual.

Even the nerds and geeks—who didn't have a place among the popular crowd—were making attempts to laugh at Nora's plight—only in hopes that they wouldn't be the next victims.

Nora's precious glasses had ben thrown off her face during her 'trip', and without them, she was practically blind. So the girl was reduced to crouching on her hands and knees to recover her spectacles—but not her dignity.

When she did, her worst fears were confirmed.

Carefully plucking them from the floor, it didn't take a genius (or even a partially blind one) to tell that the red frames were without their lenses.

Her glasses were broken; and to make it worse, Nora could already feel her face heating up.

"Awe, she's blushing!" A skinny blonde wearing a bright red top giggled and pointed at her.

The embarrassment of all of them laughing at her clouded Nora's vision. Her mind was run over by the anxiety of it all. What could she do now? She shouldn't have drawn attention to herself, but now she had! She was supposed to be invisible; non-existent. But hardly thirty minutes at this new school, and though no one knew her name, she had already tripped up! Literally!

She was helpless; there was nothing she could do. And Nora was sure they were already concocting up some some stupid nickname for her…

Except… she wasn't helpless… Not from something like this. She could fix something like this.

But should she?

Yes. She should be able to… it was only a few minutes after all… less than that, really.

Okay. Now was the time.

Nora took a deep breath. She pushed all the other students' taunts to the back of her mind. _They're irrelevant, they're irrelevant, they're irrelevant._ She repeated the mantra until something clicked in her brain.

The gears twisted and turned, their creaks and clicks echoing through her head. Nora's eyes flashed gold, then her stomach flew into her chest—as if she were suddenly free-falling.

Then…

"I'm new," she found herself saying.

She was back at the front of the class.

Mr. Mull sighed, "Well it's only the fifth day of the semester." Nora was handed the assessment booklet. "There's no need to finish the entire booklet," he said—again with that patronizing look. "Just get as much done as you can before the end of period."

All proceeded as it had less than two minutes ago. Except, this time, when Nora came across the jock's desk, she stopped right in front of it.

 _There._ His leg had flinched. It had twitched in her direction, presumably in an attempt to trip Nora once more. But she wouldn't make that mistake again.

The jock stared up at her in bewilderment. _Why did she stop? There's no way she could have known I was about to trip her!_ She had been the first to ever avoid the "newcomer ritual".

Nora stared down at him, a look containing both smugness and hostility briefly crossed her features.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Rickson?"

"No, sir." He quickly buried his head back into the assignment.

"Then I suggest you get back to work."

Nora continued her walk of victory to the back of the class, uninterrupted.

One other person had been a true witness to this brief, yet important encounter. And as Nora made her way past the girl from before, (the one with the red top, and even _redder_ lipgloss) Rosie Robinson (Queen Bee; head of the popular squad; soft core slut) raised an eyebrow in interest.


	8. Chapter 6Chapter 8

**A/N: So after the nearly two pages of exposition in the last chapter, I hope her powers have been explained enough :) Thanks for all your favourites/follows/reviews. They really mean a lot to me :)**

 **Oh, and this chapter is a continuation of the last one.**

 **I still don't own X-Men, and never will... so, yeah.**

* * *

Chapter 6/Chapter 8

Nora had barely sat down in her chair when the door flew open once more. Except this time, the newcomer brought in a lot more ruckus than she had.

The boy strode into the room, practically _radiating_ a mixture of "class clown" and "cool kid". Adorned in (presumably) faux grey leather, band memorabilia, and with the headphones to a music device slung around his neck, he strutted his way across the front of the classroom and stopped right in front of the teacher's desk.

Mr. Mull had his head in his hands. "I see your failure in last semester's exam did naught to hinder your pursuit in my class."

Pietro Maximoff simply shrugged, a sly smirk briefly crossing his features.

"What can I say? I'm a language enthusiast." Well, that, _and_ it was mandatory to take a language up until the twelfth grade at Maple Grove.

Mull exasperatedly handed him a copy of the same papers everyone else in the class was working on. (Or pretending to)

"You know the drill."

Peter casually grabbed the packet and turned to face his fellow classmates —most of which, who had given up on the assignment and were watching the short-lived exchange between the two individuals.

Rosie surveyed her surroundings nonchalantly, and was disappointed to see that there were no empty seats around her.

She stared up at Peter apologetically; blue puppy-dog eyes growing ever larger. _Sorry,_ she mouthed. He shrugged and continued to the back.

The only seat open was in-between some fat kid he didn't know and—wait? Was that even a person?

All Peter could see of the person on his right was the messenger bag on the floor next to her—he assumed they were female—and a massive mop of brown curls.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't _massive._ But damn! That was a lot of hair. She was obviously new, since she had bothered to try and do the assignment. But was it really worth the effort to go through her stuff?

 _Nah, why bother. She's definitely a nerd by the sound of that pencil._

That was true. Nora worked harder and faster than probably anyone else on the skill assessment exam. So, in short: she was frustrated. Frustrated that she had to take this stupid course in a language she had known since childhood!

She was frustrated with the secretary for taking so damn long with her schedule, making her even later for the first class. She was frustrated with herself. Nora hated herself: her oversized head of hair; her plus-sized figure; and of course: her fucking-uncontrollable set of powers!

It was because of _those_ that she'd had to move—had to leave her previous life. (One she had actually begun to like!) And it was because of her fucking powers that she had lost Tom-

 _SNAP._ The lead in her pencil broke. She'd been pressing so hard on the writing section.

Nora snorted quietly and pushed her glasses back up her nose. The guy wearing far too much grey next to her stared, wondering just what was so funny.

She continued to work through the booklet at a slacker's pace (which, compared to everyone else, _wasn't slacking)_ and by the end of class had nearly finished it.

Five minutes before the end of first period, Mr. Mull got up from his desk (a rare occurrence) and clapped his hands together. Everyone jumped to attention, semi-curious as to what he was going to say.

"Since you've had a few classes to get settled into your seats," he began. "I am pleased to announce that the seats you are currently sitting in will remain yours for the rest of the semester."

 _All right, then._ Nora was accustomed to seating plans, so the prospect of another one didn't bother her too much. Though it was a shame that she hadn't been able to get a seat closer to the front…

It would be an understatement to say that the other students were slightly less content with the teacher's decision.

"What?!" Rosie Robinson's usually-flat forehead was creased with a series of worry lines. "You can't just do that!"

"I'm afraid I can."

"But I- I can't be forced to sit next to these- these _losers_!" She gestured frantically at the abundance of people who _weren't_ in her crew that were seated around her.

Mull smirked, obviously enjoying the torture he was inflicting upon the students he hated so much.

"Well, maybe you could make use of your… smarter classmates."

 _Oh, so she was also one of last year's failures?_

Her thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of a bell, signalling the class change.

"I'll see all of you in two days time," Mull said. "And I expect that package completed and handed in to me by the start of next class." This announcement caused another series of moans and groans to be made by the French class of period B.

Nora got up in a hurry, and in doing so, bumped into the person next to her. Muttering a quick apology, she hurried out of the classroom as fast as she could (which wasn't very fast) She had history next, and still didn't know where the class was.

Peter was shocked out of his semi-hyper daze as the girl on his right practically shoved him aside in her running out of the class.

"Um, excuse you?" But she was already gone.

"Who was that, baby?" Rosie sauntered up to him and interlocked their fingers.

"I don't know, but I think she's new."

"Oh, her, the girl with all the hair!" Rosie laughed; it was a sickly-sweet, and fake-sounding noise.

"There really isn't that much," Peter said as they exited the class.

"Hah! Right." She paused, "You know, we tried the trip-test on her."

"And?"

"Nothing! It was like she knew it was coming!" Rosie threw up her hands. Peter flexed his fingers, glad to be rid of her controlling grip.

"Really?" he asked, trying to seem interested.

"Yeah, really."

"Huh." That was unusual. Most people failed the famous "trip-test" and spent their first period at Maple Grove wallowing in utter humiliation.

But Peter didn't voice his thoughts. When he was with Rosie he was simply there as arm candy. The only reason he did this was to keep her away from his sister. And to keep Wanda away from her.

* * *

 _309… 309… Where on Earth is locker 309?_

History had been alright, but the teacher had droned on and on about some "comparative civilizations" project. It had been boring, but not as bad as French. Nora honestly felt as if she'd been held back a grade or two in that class.

 _350… 348… 346…_

Now it was lunch: the most awkward time for _any_ new student.

Unlike elementary and middle school, the recess and lunchtime breaks were combined into an entire hour of social torture. It was torture because this was the time when everyone went to their friends. Not like class-time, when Nora could melt into the crowds. At lunch, she stuck out like a hangnail.

All it had taken was one look in the mess hall for Nora to scramble the hell out of there. Every table had it's own clique: there were the jocks; the cheerleader/bunny squad; then the books, and so on. Nora was probably classified as an immediate book/loner. That _is_ what her choice of attire gave off.

 _266… 264… 262… Wait_! She had passed 309.

Faded blue jeans, worn-out converse, a baggy long-sleeved-shirt-overlapped-by-a-t-shirt combo, and, of course: her glasses. (They were the icing on the cake.) Nora couldn't pull off the "frumpy" style that some girls could. And if she tried that "messy bun" thing… Well, her hair just ended up looking like _even more_ of a rat's nest.

 _324… 326… 328…_ Where was her locker?!

 _Oh. Wait._ Nora face - palmed, _how could I be so ignorant?_

These were half-sized lockers, AKA: not the full-size kind she had previously thought they were. Two filled the space where there would have usually been one; even numbers on the top and odd numbers on the bottom.

Once Nora became aware of this fact, it took approximately three more seconds for her to find it.

 _7-13-21._ That was the combination her secretary had scribbled on her timetable.

It was the first non-squeaky door she'd had in a while. Nora placed her new textbooks inside, then took out her paper-bag lunch.

Nora saw no sense in going anywhere else to eat, so simply sat down where she was; back pressed against the wall of lockers.

She was halfway through her ham sandwich when-

"Hey."

"Gaah!" Nora was so startled, she nearly choked on a chunk of dried-up bread.

She slowly stared up at the person standing above her.

 _She_ was a girl, wearing an out-of-place getup composed of a red top, long black skirt, and heavy looking combat boots. The black lipstick, nail polish, and red streaks in her dark hair made her decision to derive from the normal stand out even more.

"Um, don't meant to disturb your lunch… but my locker is right _there._ " She pointed over Nora's head.

"Oh! Right, um… sorry." Nora quickly scooted out of the girl's way, pulling her things aside.

"No problem." The girl busied herself with whatever she needed from her locker. Nora just sat there awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but her skirt.

It was black, and went up past her waist. The most eye-grabbing part was slit that cut open the side—extending all the way to her mid thigh. Nora assumed if it weren't covered in lace, she would get in trouble for disobeying the dress code.

"In case you were wondering," she said, "y _es:_ all of the half-lockers in the school are set up like this."

Nora knew what she meant. Evens on top, odds on the bottom? What had they been thinking?

"I know right? What were they thinking?" Ignoring Nora's bemused expression, she continued on. "I guess that's what you get from a broke-ass school like ours!"

She grinned, revealing a perfect set of white (and straight) teeth.

Nora couldn't think, so all that came out of her mouth was a garbled, "Locker buddy?"

Realizing how stupid it must have sounded, Nora clamped her mouth shut to avoid any more embarrassing outbursts.

The girl raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I guess we are. Sorry in advance for any books I might drop on you."

Nora shrugged and got up to face her.

"My name's Wanda." She paused, as if waiting for something.

Oh! Right! Nora coughed to relieve the silence. "My name's Anne. Anne _Green._ " Nora winced internally at the accidental emphasis she had put on _Green._

Wanda smirked, "Well alright then double-0-seven. The name's Maximoff. _Wanda_ Maximoff.

 _Double-0-seven? What did she mean by—ohhhhhh._

"Eheh." Nora half-heartedly scratched the back of her head.

"So you _must_ be new; I haven't seen you around before."

Nora nodded, "First day." _Ugh. Why couldn't she string more than two words together?!_

"Right… So! What do you have next?"

"Have… next?"

"What's your first class after lunch."

"Oh, right," Nora pulled her already-crumpled schedule out of her pocket. "Um… Math? I think?"

"Here, let me see." Wanda took the piece of paper and looked over it. After a second, she nodded. "Yep: pre-calculus, room D142, and after that you have art."

"Uh-huh." Nora rocked back and forth nervously on the balls of her feet.

"You have no idea where either of those rooms are, do you?"

"Yep." _Why did I say that?_

Wanda chuckled, "Well, come on then! I'll show you around: qe still have twenty minutes left."

"Uh… okay?" Nora said, wondering if Wanda would have cared about what her answer was.

"Great!" They packed up their lunch things, and before Nora knew it she was being pulled down the hallway.

* * *

 **Thoughts?**


	9. Chapter 7Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you're all having a good day! Thank you to those who have favourited/followed/reviewed.**

 **And finally... The moment you've all been waiting for... The chapter in which Peter and Nora officially meet for the first time!**

 **Enjoy!**

Chapter 7/Chapter 9

* * *

 _January 18th, 1972._

The first thing Nora noticed when she walked into her biology class was that Wanda wasn't there. She wasn't sitting at their usual spot, nor was she handing in their homework at the teacher's desk. Though it was first thing in the morning, so she could be running late. (But by now, even Nora had managed to get to school on time.)

Still, it would be a nice change not to have to badger her about copying the notes down.

As the five minute break slowly came to an end, a final few students trickled through the door. The teacher waited the longest he could before coming to class, and everyone knew it. It didn't take long before the dull hum of twenty-nine students talking to one another filled the room.

Nora huffed in annoyance before burying her freckled nose in her standard-issue textbook. But her attempt to go unnoticed did not last long.

"So," Nora jumped to attention as someone slammed a book on the edge of her table. " _You're_ the witch's new toy." It was a statement, not a question.

Nora was staring at the same girl from her first day. The one who'd laughed when she'd been tripped.

Except that part of the day never really happened, Nora reminded herself. (Not to them, anyways.)

Today she was wearing a low-cut blouse tucked into a pair of high-waisted trousers.

"I beg your pardon," Nora asked, desperately trying to remember her name. _Something with an R… right? Was it Romilda? Robin? Roxanne?_

"The Witch," she repeated. " _Wanda Maximoff._ You know her?"

 _Wanda? A witch? What did she mean by that?_ Nora chose the most innocent-sounding answer she could think of.

"Well, kind of. I mean—we usually sit here for bio…" _Usually? Hah! That was a joke!_ Nora had only been at Maple Grove for _four_ days. So her and Wanda's lab partnership could not be counted as friendship.

Couldn't it?

The girl sitting in front of her raised an intricately-plucked eyebrow and was about to say something before she too was interrupted.

"Oh let it be, Rosie!" The brunette sitting beside Rosie giggled. "She's a lost cause and you know it!" Her giggling stopped as soon as she saw the look Rosie was giving her.

"Did I ask for your opinion, Delores?"

Delores meekly shook her head and resumed her doodling.

All Nora could think was: _Rosie! That's her name!_ So she failed to catch the blond's next words.

"Sorry, what was that?"

Rosie sighed and took Nora's gloved hands into hers.

"Look, Anne—it's Anne, right? Right. Well, sweetie" _sweetie?_ "You seem like a nice girl. And I just…" She wiped away a tear that wasn't there. "I just don't want an innocent girl like you to get mixed up with the _wrong_ people."

Nora frowned, was she talking about Wanda?

Rosie took a deep breath and went back to her chair. "Just don't go making close friends too quickly. I don't know where you came from before; but I can guarantee it's _nothing_ like here."

"Uh- huh- all right?" Nora stuttered.

Rosie smiled, showing off her perfect teeth.

"You keep well, okay?"

Nora nodded; _keep well?_

Rosie sat in her chair, the teacher entered the class, and everyone quieted down.

The first half of the day continued on without conflict, and Rosie didn't speak to her again. In fact, she didn't even look Nora's way. It was like they had never even spoken.

At the end of the period, she left the class more confused than not. Not about the lesson, of course—that had been easy—but what Rosie said… What she'd said about Wanda.

* * *

"All right runts! Pick a ball and grab a partner!"

Beefy arms, beefier belly, a balding head covered by an old baseball cap, and _way_ too short shorts. Complete with a t-shirt representing a sports team Nora couldn't distinguish, and an attitude akin to a rhinoceros, Coach Kessler was the stereotypical high school gym teacher.

A few confused grumbles were made by the students, and he realized his mistake.

"You know what I meant! Grab a ball and pick a partner!"

The teenagers hurried to do so, complaining amongst themselves as to why they were playing football _outside_ in _January_.

Soon everyone had moved onto the field and were passing the leather footballs back and forth. And—as usual—Nora was left behind.

However, her day got brighter by the much-overdue arrival of a certain girl.

"I'm assuming you don't have a partner?" Wanda stated lazily, picking up a ball from the near-empty crate.

Nora shook her head, "Where were you?"

Wanda's face fell, "Well you certainly know how to cut to the chase."

"Sorry if I'm worried for a friend!" _Shit! Why did I say friend?!_

Wanda smirked, " _A_ friend? Does that mean you've been cheating on me?" She made a mock gasp and put a hand to her forehead, "Could Anne have _other_ friends? I am shocked! I am _proud_!"

"Oh, shut up."

Wanda laughed and put an arm around Nora's shoulders, "Since you asked _so_ nicely: I wasn't feeling well this morning. Woke up with a massive migraine and couldn't get out of bed."

Nora didn't bother pointing out that an actual ( _average_ ) migraine would have kept Wanda home for at least the entire school day. She also couldn't help think that due to that information, Wanda had either been faking it, or was lying.

"Besides," she stopped walking. "I _specifically_ asked my brother to tell you. Ugh! He is so lazy…"

"I didn't know you had a brother."

"Let's hope you never meet him."

"Whatever you say."

"Hah!" Wanda started to say something else, but was stopped by Coach Kessler.

"Runts!" (He seemed to like that term.) "What do you think you're doing?"

"Umm," Wanda gestured around them, "Walking to an area clear of idiots?"

"Well don't you think this is going a bit far?"

Nora realized that they were actually on the other side of the field.

"Oh."

"I suggest you reunite with the rest of your classmates."

"Sure thing, Coach."

They were turning to go back when he stopped them again.

"Maximoff," he said, "You were late today."

"Right," Wanda stared upward as if in prayer, "I stayed home again this morning. My note's at the office if you feel the need to verify anything."

He nodded, and allowed them to move along.

All the while, Nora thought: _did these headaches happen often?_

* * *

 _January 24, 1972._

Her second Monday at Maple Grove was as uneventful as ever. Nora was currently eating her eighth lunch at the high school. The only difference today was that her and Wanda had found a place in the cafeteria.

Technically, they'd been _forced_ to find a place. Last Friday a teacher had kicked them out of the hallway, muttering about noise disturbances and the "frivolity of today's youth."

Wanda suggested they go outside for lunch as soon as the temperature improved but for now they were stuck in the cafeteria. Faced with the back corner of the long, but low-ceilinged room, they'd had to choose between sharing the table belonging to the burnouts, or that of the nerds.

They had chosen the burnouts. The only bright side was that they talked less.

Nora noticed Wanda glaring at something in the distance, and when she followed her line of vision Nora saw that she was staring at a _very_ special table located at the centre of the cafeteria.

It was the one that housed a mixture of jocks, cheerleaders, and people who weren't either—but were relevant, nonetheless. In conclusion: the popular table.

Everyone else in the school harboured a love/hate relationship with the teens that sat there.

On the good side: they had the best parties, and could be quite nice on occasion. (Though they were usually nice only when they wanted something from you.)

On the bad side: they were a satan-worshiping clan of heartless, backstabbing, sons (and daughters) of bitches who cared for no-one but themselves.

Wanda smirked, brows furrowed in concentration. Could she do it from this distance? Rosie shifted in her seat, twenty feet away. _There—_ now she had a direct visual. Slowly, Wanda began to trace circles on her own table's plastic surface.

 _But wait! Anne._ She quickly looked to her friend. _Good._ She was reading a book—as usual. Wanda returned to her plotting.

Nora was interrupted from her book ( _The Chryalids,_ by John Wyndham) by a loud, girlish shriek.

"Eeeek!" Rosie Robinson jumped up from her table. Hopping around in her expensive shoes, she attempted to dry herself off.

"My outfit! My tea!" she cried, "It spilled all _over_ me!" She pushed away the boy attempting to calm her down. "No, Peter! You _can't_ help me! Unless you know where the nearest five-star boutique is?!"

Peter took a step back, hands raised in surrender.

He quickly noticed Wanda's barely-contained expression of pure joy, and his face went from concerned to angry in less than a second.

While Rosie ran to the bathroom, Peter stalked towards the table where Wanda and Anne sat. Within seconds, the girls were the only two there.

Wanda desperately tried to find something to do that would make her seem inconspicuous. She opted for grabbing Anne's book straight out of her hands.

He stopped in front of them; Wanda hap-hazardously flipped through pages, while Nora stared at her in shock. Her hands, though they were now empty, still kept the position of holding the book.

Peter sat down across from them. _This is the girl Wanda's been raving about? She doesn't seem like much._ However, seeing as how she pawed at Wanda in an attempt to get her book back, he could understand his sister's liking in the bookish, seemingly-quiet girl.

He tried not to show too much amusement towards it all, instead saying, "Why did you do that?"

The curly-haired girl on the right gaped at him; she did seem familiar. Peter could've sworn he'd seen her in one of his classes.

Wanda continued to rush through the pages. "Do what?"

Nora winced as in her speed, she made a small tear at one of the corners.

"You know what I mean."

"I am afraid that I do not." Wanda tended to forsake contractions when she lied.

"Oh come on Wanda, Rosie _just_ bought that dress."

"Does it look like I car-"

"Wait," Nora spoke up. " _You_ think _she_ tipped the drink?"

Wanda's eyes widened. _Oh boy:_ this wasn't good.

Peter tried to speak, but Nora interrupted him.

"I mean, how could she? It's all the way over _there._ " She pointed at the popular table.

Wanda tried to pull her back down, but Nora was having none of it. Wanda was nice to her. She'd been the nicest since Tom! Nora almost sat down at the memory of him. But she wasn't going to let this flashy numbskull put her down. (Seriously though, he seemed to glow in the light with all that silver.)

Nora poked him in the chest, "What's the point of accusing her anyways? If you're going with that bullshit, there's just as much of a chance of me having done it as her!"

Most people were still engrossed in their lunchtime conversations, but a few had noticed the very one-sided argument going on.

It certainly was an odd sight to behold. First, one would see the girl dressed in black, head in her hands. Then one would notice the guy wearing mostly grey (or silver.) He was of an average height, but was still at least a head taller than the girl standing in front of him. He looked utterly bemused at the turn of conversation. Third, there was the shorter girl, standing up and jabbing her finger at him while she chewed his head off.

If looks could kill, Peter would have probably gotten off with a broken leg. (Which was worse for him than anyone else.)

"Do you know who I am?" He asked.

"No!" Nora scoffed. She grabbed Wanda by the arm, and her bag by the strap. "Why should _I_ care who _you_ are?"

Drawing a few more stares than Wanda would have liked, she let Anne pull her out of the cafeteria. They left Peter standing there. He was more confused than when they'd been learning past-tense verbs in French.

 _What just happened…?_ Was all he could think.

Wanda let them get to their lockers before she burst out laughing. She gasped for breath, hands clasped around her torso. After a minute, she collapsed against the wall.

"Are you okay?" Nora asked. _Where had that come from?_

"Are you?" Wanda laughed, "I didn't know you had that kinda fire in ya!"

Nora blushed, "I don't know, I guess it… just… happened?" (She did know; Nora had got her occasional, spontaneous burst of protectiveness from an ancient Inca warrior.)

"It sure did!" Wanda burst into another fit of giggles as Nora sat down behind her.

A comfortable silence filled the hallway. They stayed like that for a minute.

After a bit, Anne asked Wanda a question that had been on her mind for the past few days. "Are we friends?"

Wanda snorted, "Of course we are, silly!" She paused, "Why would you think otherwise?"

Not remembering Rosie's warning of 'getting mixed up with the wrong people", Nora decided to ruin the moment with her over-technical speech.

"Just clarifying."

Wanda laughed, "Anne: you're awesome."

Nora smiled, and not the fake or uncomfortable kind. Hers was true and genuine and the first in a long while.

* * *

 **A/N: *important Author's Note!***

 **Something I'll need to address for the future;** ** _and_** **if you're already confused. Nora and Anne are the same person. And for now both of their names will be used to describe either who's POV it's from (ie. Wanda only knows** ** _Anne,_** **so she'll think and refer to her as such.)** ** _Or_** **when Nora's displaying character traits that aren't really hers. I don't know how much that'll clear things up. If you're confused please contact me, or just use it as an example of Nora's deteriorating sanity.**


	10. Chapter8Chapter 10

**A/N: Another chapter, some more character development. (I hope!)**

anonymouscsifan: **thank you for all your reviews! reading them makes me so happy! I'm glad you like where their friendship seems to be going :)**

 **The** ** _italicized-dialogue_** **in the first part of this chapter means the characters are speaking in Japanese.**

Chapter 8/Chapter 10

* * *

 _Japan, 1570._

"Arigato," Nora said and gratefully accepted the cup of tea.

 _"_ _You are welcome,"_ her saviour replied, moving to the fire to prepare his own drink.

Nora sat back, happy to relax—for the moment.

A fierce gust of wind blew open the only window in the hut; she pulled her kimono tighter around her. There was a storm outside, which was uncommon in the province of _Ishikawa—_ especially during the winter months.

 _So,_ Nora thought. _It's Japan this time._

She didn't mind Japan; the people were nice, and the weather was (usually) nicer. Plus: they had invented the most comfortable piece of clothing ever known to man. If only she could wear a kimono every day.

This was the second—no, _third_ time she'd come here. And with her bi-monthly travelling rate, Nora wished she could return more often.

There was just one thing she disliked about Japan: ninjas.

Honestly, ninjas were overrated. Nora didn't doubt that any third-grade super-fan would change their mind faster than a windmill in a tornado if they ever actually ever met one.

Ninjas were sneaky, smelly, and distrustful people. They'd captured her when she was thirteen, and despite her speaking _their_ language, and she'd been thrown in jail for the entire Easter long-weekend. She'd nearly been poisoned, stabbed, and pushed off a cliff all in the course of her escape.

To put it cleanly, she much preferred the silent-yet-wise and leagues-more trusting attitudes of the samurai.

It had been a long day, and she was tired. Lulled by the rhythmic sound of the crackling fire, Nora's eyes slowly fell further and further closed. And despite the raging storm outside, she quickly succumbed to the open arms of sleep.

She was woken hours later, by the bright glare of the sun, and the pounding in her skull.

 _"_ _I am so sorry,"_ she apologized. _"I did not mean to intrude on your generous hospitality."_

 _"_ _Do not dwell on it,"_ the elderly man said. _"It was my pleasure to host such a kind stranger."_

Nora smiled, _"I cannot thank you enough. If you had not found me, I may have died in that storm."_ She paused, _"But why did you help me? I could've been a thief, or some other kind of unruly character… Not to mention my skin colour… I'm sure people of my race are not widely accepted here."_

 _"_ _I consider myself a good judge of character,"_ he frowned, wrinkles creasing his forehead. _"And besides, I doubt that you would have been doing much thievery in the state you were in,"_ he said, referring to her previous state of undress.

Nora was about to say something, but he spoke again before she could.

 _"_ _And if you are about to refer to your ancestry again, please know that it does not matter to me: only that you were in need of my help."_

Nora grimaced, not wanting to point out that this attitude—no matter how kind—would probably get this man killed someday. She couldn't help wishing that everyone could be like this man. Kind, helpful, and non-discriminatory.

 _"_ _How long was I asleep?"_ She needed to know.

 _"_ _Only a few hours."_

 _Great. That meant it was almost dark back in the present._ Her _present, that is._

It was a Sunday, so if she didn't get back soon, Nora would probably find herself falling asleep in class.

Her flexed her fingers, knuckles popping unnaturally. Then another wave of pain hit her head. That was usually the sign; it was time for her to go.

She stood up abruptly, waving back her saviour as he moved to help her.

 _"_ _It's time for me to go,"_ she said.

 _"_ _What?"_ he asked, confused. _"Where will you go?"_

Nora put a hand on his shoulder. _"I cannot express how grateful I am for you help. But it is best if you do not know."_

Shun sat back down, a dejected look on his face.

Nora hid one of her already-glowing hands in the folds of the kimono.

 _"_ _May I keep this?"_ she asked. Nora wanted to test something out.

 _"_ _Of course,"_ Shun tried to offer food and other items, but Nora firmly refused.

He assumed she would be going on a long journey, which was partly true—except that it would only take a few agonizing seconds for that journey to be made.

Ending their conversation on a bittersweet note, Nora swiftly exited the hut and made her way into the depths of the forest she'd come from.

And like she had so many times before: she didn't look back.

* * *

 _January 30th, 1972._

It was midnight when she got back home. Although her "home" was technically an abandoned four-plex in the furthest outskirts of Silver Spring.

Nora reappeared in the closet she'd shut herself in beforehand. Her clothes were there on the floor, right where she'd left them.

Nora tried to sleep—she really did—but it wouldn't come.

So instead, she put on her gym strip, and ran out into the pitch-black night.

The sky was clear, and she could make out many of the constellations depicted a million miles over her head.

She found running refreshing, even if it made it hard to breathe and gave her cramps. She used the time to think about things.

She thought about Wanda, and how she really shouldn't be making _another_ friend. Not after what had happened last time.

Two sides of herself warred against one another.

 _DON'T YOU dARE GET CLOSE TO ANYONE! YOU COULD KILL HER! SHE MIGHT DIE! AND IT'S NOT LIKE YOU NEED ANY MORE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS? Right?!_

Nora concluded that side A was right on many parts; but the fact that thinking about it gave her a raging headache made her lean towards side B.

 _Well you're being_ extra _careful this time; you scouted out all the possible hiding places if an attack_ were _to occur: good work. And Wanda's just so nice, and funny and talented—and it was also her who approached you, right? So there's nothing you could've done about_ that _…_

Of course, Nora knew exactly what she could do about Wanda. What she could've done…

Hah! But it was too late now! If she had _really_ wanted her gone, Nora should've turned time back the day she met her.

Nora thought about Shun. About why such an open-minded man like him couldn't be ruling Japan? And why everyone couldn't just be as accepting as he was towards different people?

Nora returned to her section of the house at 1:26 in the morning. She didn't bother changing or showering and just went to bed.

She was spent.

* * *

Peter cursed under his breath when he saw the test mark.

 _19/50_ _See me after class!_

His mum wouldn't be happy, to say the least. And he had no doubt Mull was giddy at the thought of failing him _again_ this term. To say that they disliked each other was a _severe_ understatement.

"Another excellent mark, Anne!" Mr. Mull praised as he handed the brunette's test back.

 _French-loving nerd_ , Peter thought, along with a few more colourful terms.

To be honest he didn't get what was so special about the girl. Wanda spent at least a third of their dinner conversations raving about her, but so far, Anne Green just seemed like your average wall-flower.

Not to mention, she had humiliated him in front of the entire cafeteria population. _Peter_ was usually the one who shocked people into silence, not some mouse-haired newbie!

He wondered if Wanda had told her they were siblings? She usually didn't…

Surprisingly, both Peter _and_ Nora were waiting at Mr. Mull's desk at the end of class.

So far, their relationship had only elevated to the point of harsh glares and whispered insults. Peter had gone through her locker twice, and each time he'd found the same boring stuff.

The only (somewhat) interesting thing was a dog-eared copy of _A Wrinkle in Time._ (He had been forced to read it in the seventh grade.) Inside, there were countless margins crowded with notes; circled paragraphs, and the occasional paper insert. The strange thing was, it was all written in French.

All he could think of at the moment had been: _if she already speaks—or writes—french, then why the hell is she in here?_

"Ah! Peter!" Mull shooed Anne away to give the two of them some privacy. "I'm afraid I'll need your mother to sign this test." He wasn't afraid, in fact: he looked downright happy! "-so I _know_ that she knows the current state of your grade."

Peter grumpily snatched his test back and stalked out of the room. There was no need to ask Mull for his grade; he was failing— _obviously_.

"Miss Green," Mr. Mull walked over to the desk she was leaning on. "How has the start at Maple Grove been?"

She nodded, uncertain as to why he'd kept her after class. "It's been fine… I guess."

He frowned, "Do you change schools a lot?"

"Yes, my father's work moves us around quite a bit."

"Ah, that _is_ unfortunate."

Anne took in a silent breath; she wasn't sure where this conversation was going.

"Alright then; I'll cut to the chase," he said. " You're very smart, aren't you, Anne?"

"Erm… I beg your pardon?"

"You've either aced—or come close to acing every assignment that's been handed out. And that certainly shows a lot more work ethic than anyone else in this class."

What?! She was!? Nora hadn't really been paying attention to what was going on in this class. She rarely studied for the tests, but somehow, in her absentminded-ness, she'd forgotten to act average! Unable to figure out where she went wrong, Nora settled with a, "What are you getting at, sir?"

Mr. Mull got up and slowly began to pace the front of the class, a scare tactic he often used during exams.

"There is one student failing this class," he admitted. "Actually, there are many! But there is one in particular I'd rather not see in here again next year." He turned towards her suddenly, "Could I interest you in a tutoring job, Anne?"

"What?" This wasn't good: making connections wasn't good.

"I can promise you it won't take up much of your free time!" he pleaded, "Just an hour or so every Thursday?"

"Would I be paid?" Nora asked hesitantly.

"Well of course!" Mr. Mull threw up his hands, "It- it would come out of my own pocket, of course! I'd be willing to pay… four dollars a session?"

Anne's eyes bugged out of her head. _Four dollars?! That was eighty cents above minimum wage!_

Catching a bad vibe from her, Mr. Mull's face fell.

Nora felt sorry for the man. He lived alone—unless you counted the two or more cats. (There was hair all over his jacket.) He had been divorced for at least a few years; previously married for more, judging by the circular tan-line on his ring finger. His rumpled clothes and uncombed hair (what was left of it, that is) suggested a severe case of not-giving-a-shit-itis.

He was lonely, desperate… suicidal? Nora knew the feeling.

"Four dollars sounds great."

His face lit up.

Nora gathered her things into her bag. "So, when do I start?"

"Is this Thursday okay? I'll introduce you to the student and you can work in here." He gestured to his plain, undecorated classroom.

"Okay, thank you for the opportunity." Nora tried to sound gracious; like Anne. Though one side of her consciousness screamed for her to stop this madness.

She decided that saying no to his offer would most likely draw even _more_ unwanted attention to herself.

Nora returned home that day feeling slightly elated. She was going to help someone. Maybe two people.

 _And who knows? Maybe having some extra money will help out? Maybe I won't have to steal so much._

* * *

 **A/N: Shun's name is pronounced** ** _Shoe-n._**

 **Thoughts?**


	11. Chapter 9Chapter 11

**A/N: Thank you to all those who have favourited/followed/reviewed this story! It has reached over 2500 views! Even though many of that is of the same people (thank you! :) it's still pretty crazy to me!**

anonymouscsifan: **thank you for your kind thoughts! I'm glad someone else recognized the 'Anne of Green Gables' parallel there. I hope you keep liking this story :)**

 **And I'm afraid I have a bit of bad news. The dropbox on our website beloved is screwing up on me, so I may not be able to upload next week. Is this happening to any of your other** **uploads? I've tried with the next two chapters, but neither are working. I have some ideas of getting around it, so hopefully something will be up here next week :)**

 **A bit of a shorter chapter, I know… But I think it's important nonetheless.**

Chapter 9/Chapter 11

 _February 2nd, 1972._

Nora hadn't bought one thing her entire life. Unless you counted the occasional penny candy; the majority of things she owned were stolen.

She knew it was wrong.

She also knew there were starving kids in Africa. And it's not as if anyone was jumping at the chance to help them.

She also knew that there were thousands of homeless people in the US; and that there wasn't nearly enough shelters for them all.

Pulling a handful of scraggly curls away from her forehead, Nora strolled through the supermarket.

Basket in one hand; shopper's discount guide in the other, she went to work.

She always made sure to get the items that were on sale. That way, people wouldn't notice if a few extra cans of kidney beans went missing.

She made her way through the produce section, and Nora made sure to grab a fresh head of lettuce. (The previous one had gone stale.) She was tempted by a bag of granny-smith apples, but decided against it as there were only a few left.

Unable to help herself, she grabbed a box Oreos and quickly tore through the plastic wrap. She sighed and closed her eyes at the heavily-manufactured taste of the cookie; these were a long time coming.

Of course, she did all of this with the time paused.

Nora casually stepped one converse around the stilled forms of a mother

and child; the boy's face frozen in mid wail.

Transferring items to her bag when the basket got too full, she drifted from aisle to aisle. Within ten minutes she was nearly through her shopping excursion.

Apprehensive, she cautiously sniffed one armpit before quickly grabbing a stick of unscented deodorant.

But she couldn't help think she was forgetting something.

 _What is it, what is it; what am I forgetting?_ She wracked her brain for the answer.

"Oh, right!" She huffed a stray curl out of her face.

She was in desperate need of ramen; Nora practically lived off the stuff!

But when she got to the "oriental foods" aisle, she found someone unexpected waiting for her.

Well he technically wasn't _waiting_ for anyone; he just happened to be there.

Nora couldn't resist giggling at the sight of Peter's obnoxiously silver hair blown straight back while he seemed to be in mid-sprint down the stretch of beige-and-white linoleum.

She carefully brushed past his windblown leather jacket to the towering stack of instant noodles.

 _Beef; chicken; vegetable._ She tucked a few packets away.

"I guess that's it," she murmured to herself.

Nora was almost to the door when she stopped.

 _You can't just pass up on an opportunity like this, can you?_

Grabbing her polaroid, Nora ran back to the aisle where Peter was. She didn't waste any time (not that there _was_ any time _to_ waste) and quickly snapped a shot of him.

No one would be able to deny that he looked a bit odd. Honestly who wears goggles in public? And with a roll of _duct tape_ strapped to their belt?!

She left the store and returned to the four-plex. When she got to the front door, she snapped her fingers; just like she had one hour ago.

Content, Nora ate her dinner imagining the expression on Peter's face as he tripped over the expertly-placed crate of apples.

.

.

.

 _February 3rd._

"You?"

 _"_ _You."_

Peter and Nora glared at each other accusatorially.

" _You're_ my tutor?"

" _You're_ failing," Nora grimaced; _of course it would be him._

Noticing the tension between the two, Mull hightailed it out of there before he became the subject of their wrath.

Peter was settled back in one of the many chairs in the classroom, legs propped up on a desk.

Nora stood at the front of the row he was in, well-worn textbook clutched to her chest.

They stayed like that for a moment, each trying to break the other's stare.

Nora won, in the end, when Peter sighed, rolled his eyes, and stretched his arms from side to side.

"Well I guess this means we'll have to get along from now on, shortstack."

He got up and walked towards her until they were nearly chest to chest. _Okay, maybe I'm a little on the short side, but he's kinda tall, too!_

"Only for an hour," she countered. "Every other Thursday."

 _Not bad,_ Peter thought. _Maybe she_ does _have a sense of humour underneath that shell._

"Look," she said. "Can we at least _pretend_ to get some work done? I don't care if you skip, just be back before _he_ is. Besides," she muttered. "I have pre-calc work that needs finishing…"

"Over-achiever!"

Unimpressed, Nora raised an eyebrow. "What? Are you in the _easy_ math, or something?"

Peter threw up his hands, "We can't _all_ be geniuses now can we, shortstack. And yes; I'm in foundations."

He sat down again, a dejected look on his face. "That's another of my classes I'm failing."

Nora sighed and sat down across from him. "Alright, what seems to be the problem?"

He looked up, "With what?"

"With French, duh."

"Well for starters?" He drawled. "The teacher's a total dick."

"I meant _besides_ that," Nora said.

Peter chuckled.

.

.

.

 _Later that night._

"Wanda!" Peter yelled, "Dinner's ready!"

The loud strumming of a bass guitar stopped abruptly. The door marked with a "keep out" sign flew open by way of a telekinetic force, and the dark-haired mutant stormed downstairs.

Dinner at the Maximoff household was usually an uninteresting occasion, with Wanda regularly working the closing shift at a local bistro. But today, even young Brygit noticed the tension between her two older siblings.

"So," Magda tried. "Anyone for mash?"

The only response was the bowl of mashed potatoes sliding to Wanda's plate by the use of an unseen hand.

Magda Maximoff sighed. It had been like this for weeks. She knew Pietro and Wanda weren't in the same "groups" at school, but now they weren't even talking at home!

The tall, Polish woman didn't exactly know the reason for their silence. But she had a sinking suspicion is had to do with the new friend Wanda'd been talking about.

Peter readjusted himself from his slouched position, an evil grin crossing his features.

"So I had my first tutoring session today."

Magda and clapped her hands together, "Well? How'd it go?"

He took a deep breath, "Pretty good, actually."

Magda smiled, "I think it's wonderful that Mr. Mull's providing you with some help."

"Well it's not exactly _him_ who's tutoring me…" Peter said. "He hired one of the other students."

Magda raised and eyebrow, "Really? Wow. I- well- I guess that's nice."

"Yeah, it _is_ pretty cool… Wanna know who it is, Wanda?"

His sister's head snapped up at this, confused as to why she would be interested in something like _that_.

Peter interlocked his fingers behind his head, dinner forgotten.

"What was her name again? That girl who you've been mooning over for the past month?"

" _Anne's_ your tutor?" Wanda gasped.

"Surprised?" He asked, "I wasn't. Apparently, she's been acing every test."

Wanda pointed an accusatory finger at him, "I swear- if you do anything to her-"

"Relax," Peter said. "There's nothing going on between us."

There was a moment of silence; the calm before the storm.

"Besides," Peter said. "I'm done with your little romances."

Wanda jumped up, "She _is not_ my girlfriend!"

Peter raised his hands up, "You said it, not me."

"Arrgh!" She screamed, "Why do you have to be such a jerk?!"

He shrugged, "I don't know; why are you such a-"

"Will both of you just _stop it_!"

They turned to their mother, who had her head in her hands.

"For once, can we _please_ just have a normal, peaceful, _family_ dinner."

"Mum, I hate to break it to you," Peter stated. "But that really isn't possible."

Wanda thrust her hand out towards him, causing his drink to spill over his crotch.

"Shit!" He cried, jumping up from his seat. "What is it with you and tipping people's drinks?!"

Brygit, who often acted younger than her actual age of seven, chose that moment to burst into tears and upend her own drink.

Peter left the dining room in a flash of silver, returning to his basement den.

Wanda waved Magda back, righting all the toppled dishes with a snap of her fingers. She picked up her step-sister, and brushed some stray crumbs off her princess dress.

Guiding Brygit to the kitchen, Wanda patted her mother's shaking shoulders.

"Don't worry about it Mum, I'll do the dishes tonight."

.

.

 **And finally, I am open to suggestions for one-shots for when Peter and Nora get together. (Because that _will_ be happening.) I have a few things in mind, but I'd love to hear some suggestions from you guys :)**

 **Hopefully I'll be posting again next week. Until then, happy reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Aaaaaaaaand, I'm back! I downloaded LibreOffice, so that'll be _super fun_ transferring all my documents! But at least I was able to upload on time :D Thank all of you for your follows/favourites/reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)**

anonmouscsifan: **I'm glad you found it funny :D And so many questions! Haha! I promise that there will be answers, but all in do time :) Thank you for the review!**

Chapter 10/Chapter 12

 _February, 10th, 1972._

"So do you conjugate the past tense of _aller_ with _faire_ or _avoir_?"

Anne sighed, head in her hands. "How many times do I have to say it? Neither! The past tense of _aller_ goes with _être_!" Anne gestured frantically at the notes she'd written in Peter's workbook.

"See? _Je_ suis _allée a la plage,_ " she said, perfectly connecting the ending and beginning of _suis_ and _allée_. "I _went_ to the beach."

"Alright, okay," Peter said, trying not to laugh at the sight of the tiny girl running her hands through her already-messy hair. "I think I get it now, wanna take a break?"

"Sure." Nora got up and grabbed her coin purse out of her bag.

When she stood at the soda machine, she couldn't help wonder when this would be over. _Teaching him French is like trying to convert a lion to veganism!_

She returned to the classroom, only to find Peter sitting in the teacher's chair; feet propped up on the desk. She raised an eyebrow before returning to her respective seat.

"So are you bilingual or something?" He asked, munching on an apple that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Nora started up from her textbook. "What do you mean?" She asked, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible.

"Well I was looking through your things-"

"-What?!-"

"-And I found this book," he said, and held up her ancient copy of _A Wrinkle in Time._

"She jumped up, "That's mine!"

He continued on, "I flipped through it, you know, and can you guess what I found?"

She said nothing.

"Notes. Nearly every page in here is filled with French. And judging how similar the printing is, I'm just gonna assume it's yours."

"Give that back!" She lunged towards him.

But instead she found herself sprawled on the floor, while _he_ was on the other side of the room.

Leaning against the door frame, _on the other side of the room,_ Peter stared down at Nora, a haughty expression on his face.

 _What the hell was that?_ Nora got to her feet and warily took a few steps back.

"What the hell was that?" She asked, voicing her current mindset.

"What the hell was what?" Faster than imaginarily possible, Peter moved from the doorway to her desk. He carefully placed the book back in her bag.

"You see something here? Something no one would believe if you told them?"

"You- I- Just- you? what?-" Nora stuttered.

"Exactly," he said. "Now we both know each others' secrets."

 _Oh he had no idea._

"Hey!" She cried as he once again took her book into his hands.

"Now," he said, carelessly flipping through the dog-eared pages. "I may be no expert on the French language -we wouldn't be here if I was- but I must say: Mull would shit himself if he saw how perfect these sentence structures are!"

Oh how she wished she could stop time and slap that smirk off of is face! But even if they _both_ had powers, there was no way she'd ever let him know about hers!

Nora tried to get at him again, but was stopped when put his hands on her shoulders.

"I'm sensing you don't want anyone to know about this 'bilingual' thing of yours," Peter said in a very sensei-like voice. "So I'm willing to make you a deal." They were standing _awfully_ close. "You give me half of that oversized paycheque that I'm _sure_ you're screwing Mull for-"

"You bastard!" Nora screeched and moved to slap him. But he grabbed her wrist in mid air.

"-Ah, ah, ah.. As I was saying: two dollars every hour we're forced to spend together, and I'll keep quiet."

Trying not to scream, Nora settled with a curt nod. It would be pointless to argue. He was -unfortunately- right about the people not believing her about his apparent super-speed.

Peter checked his watch, "My, would you look at the time! It's been an hour, _already?"_ He patted her shoulder, "Alright then, I'll see you around then, shortstack. And don't forget the money for next time!"

Peter gave a mock salute before disappearing from the classroom. He left in what Nora assumed was his usual fashion.

Making sure he was really gone, Nora waited an exact one minute and thirty-seven seconds before letting out a blood-curling scream.

She wrung her hands through her hair and crumpled to the floor in an exhausted heap. It took her a near three minutes before she was able to completely sort through all Peter's memories.

 _Why did you let him get so close?! Why did you try to slap him!? You know you can't have any physical contact!_

When she was in public, Nora had never worn anything shorter than capris and a long-sleeved t-shirt. And even then, she wore long socks to keep her ankles safe from any curious children. (It had happened before.)

She dragged herself into the chair she'd previously occupied, and took in a shaky breath.

She didn't bother signing out with Mr. Mull that day. Nora paused time and returned home feeling sick to her stomach.

.

.

.

 _Amarie Movie Theatre; February 12th, 1972._

Nora stayed in bed for most of Friday. It had been a while since she'd made physical contact with anyone. She'd forgotten how it felt when sixteen years of a person's life were forced into your consciousness.

She only got up to go to the bathroom and turn off the phone. The school left one message, asking about her absence. Wanda left another.

But frankly, Nora didn't feel like talking to either of the Maximoff twins right now.

That's right; _twins_. Peter (or Pietro) and Wanda were brother and sister!

Nora'd had a first-person view of nearly fourteen years of the mutant teenager's memories. It was only _fourteen_ years, because she only saw the things he remembered.

So even if he had been three, Peter still strongly remembered the day he first put gum in his sister's hair.

Nora knew a lot about him now. She knew his hair was naturally silver; (?!) that his mutation had first manifested when he was six; (same as Wanda). _And_ she knew that Peter was doing terribly in all of his subjects. All but PE, that is.

Unfortunately, Nora also knew a bunch of the more _private_ things Peter did in his -ehem- _spare time._

Nora always immediately siphoned off anything sex-related into a folder far, _far_ away from her main consciousness. But she'd still become aware of the fact that he and Rosie Robinson slept with one another on a tri-weekly basis. (Though it wasn't exactly 'sleeping'; they just did the deed.)

Nora also knew that Wanda was keeping something even bigger than her secret twin from her. Wanda… was a lesbian. She liked girls.

Nora didn't dwell on it for long. She was fine with it, albiet a little miffed that she hadn't been told.

Although, she'd only known her for, like, a month! Nora just wished that she'd found out via Wanda telling her, not because of her stupid power.

And speaking of powers… Wanda was a mutant too?! Her _and_ Peter… Though neither of them completely understood what they were capable of.

"Honey? You gonna buy a ticket?"

Nora started from her thoughts. She was at the front of the line.

"Yeah, sorry," she murmured.

"No matter, hun. What can I do ya for?" The elderly woman smiled at her from behind the other side of the glass. She was rather plump, and her name tag said _Alice_.

 _Probably a mom-and-pop theatre._

"Um, could I have one ticket for _Antony and Cleopatra,_ please?"

Alice stared at her pityingly, "Just you?"

Nora frowned, Valentine's Day wasn't until Monday.

"There's a discount for couples on the Valentine's weekend."

 _Oh, of course there was._ "No, just me," Nora said.

"Alright, that'll be one dollar, ninety cents."

Nora slid a one dollar bill through the slot in the glass and fished through her pockets for the change.

 _Oh no._ She was sure she'd brought enough.

Eventually there were two quarters, one dime, and three lint-covered pennies on the countertop.

 _Damn._ She was still twenty-seven cents short. Maybe if she just reversed back to forty minutes ago? Yeah, that should be enough-

"Why hello there, shortstack."

Nora cringed; _please don't be who I think it is; please don't be who I think it is; please don't be who I think it is. Please, please, pleas-_

It was him.

Peter -or rather: _Pietro_ Maximoff leaned against the side of the ticket booth, a smug smile on his face.

"You seem to be having a little trouble there."

"Hey!" Someone shouted from the back of the line. "What's taking so long?"

Peter paid no attention to the unhappy customer as he sidled in front of the glass. "I believe that's _two_ for _Casablanca,_ " he said. "Couple's discount, _of course_."

 _What?!_ Nora screamed; but only in her head.

She didn't want to cause _even more_ of a scene, so she plastered on a _very_ fake smile and went along with it.

But when Peter casually tried to slink an arm around her waist, she batted it away like it was, well: a baseball.

Raising an eye at the two of them, Alice made the ticket-money exchange with Peter.

"Come on, baby," he said, interlocking their fingers with a stare that said _just go with it, okay?_

Anne reluctantly followed him inside.

The theatre was big. High, arched ceilings were matched with murals painted across the foyer as well as a number of movie posters being displayed on the walls. Gold lights stationed every seven feet or-so gave the main atrium a classy, 1930's vibe.

A poster much more vibrant than the rest showcased the theatre's fiftieth anniversary. Upon closer inspection, Anne discovered that it was to take place just next year!

"Established in 1923," Peter's sudden intrusion made Nora jump around and then glare at him. "The Amarie Theatre is the oldest movie theatre in the state."

"That sounds rehearsed," she said.

"It might be," he countered, smirking. "Come on, shortstack. We don't want to miss the picture."

"Wait," Nora asked. "You actually think I'm going with you?"

He frowned, "Well I did pay for _your_ ticket…"

"Ugh," Nora groaned. "Then take it back already. I don't want it -so just give it to that _girlfriend_ of yours."

Peter stiffened visibly before saying, "She's _not_ my girlfriend."

Nora raised an eyebrow, though she knew he was telling the truth. He only 'dated' Rosie to keep her and Wanda away from each other. Nora couldn't help but admire him slightly for that. He let his sister hate him everyday just so that she could live a somewhat happier life.

Anne was pondering on whether or not to accept his invitation to the not-date, but then she recalled something else.

Ever since Wanda had 'come out' to Peter, (which had happened just over a year ago) he'd screwed and then broken the heart of any girl she'd ever befriended. (Which, in Rosie's case, had yet to happen, due to her resilient bitchiness.)

So Rosie and Wanda had once been friends, when they had both been the 'new kids' at Maple Grove. But that was a relationship that had gone sour _very_ quick.

Allison had been the first; Jana the second, and Rosie was currently the third.

If she stayed in Silver Spring for much longer, Anne was to be the fourth.

It was a sick and twisted mindset that Peter harboured. But it was his way of protecting his sister. And Nora could sympathize with that.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Anne?" Wanda said, a mixture of confusion and betrayal evident on her face. "What're you doing here?"

Nora sighed; well wasn't this awkward.

"Nothing, Wanda, let's get outta here." She turned to leave, but was stopped by a hand on her wrist.

"I'm sorry," Peter apologized. "-About what I said yesterday." His eyes were filled with the uncommon emotion of regret. "What I said… It was rude, and uncalled for."

Nora nodded curtly at him.

"It's fine," she said, then grabbed Wanda by the elbow and stalked out of there.

"They'd gotten halfway down the block before Wanda practically yelled, "What the hell was that?!"

Anne chuckled, "Well you lasted longer than I thought you would."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?!"

"Absolutely nothing," Anne retorted.

"Ahhgh!" Wanda threw her hands up in the air.

Nora knew why she was so frustrated, and tried to calm her down.

"We weren't doing anything, Wanda."

She snorted, " _Right,_ because he _didn't_ buy your ticket. And you two _weren't_ on a date."

"It- it, wasn't like that!" Nora stuttered. "He just came out of nowhere! I tried to tell him off, but he- he just… he just…" Her voice trailed off.

"Whatever," Wanda scoffed. _That's my brother,_ she thought. _Working his 'Maximoff' charm…_

But, nevertheless, they continued to walk side-by-side, down the walkway.

Sundown had come and gone hours ago. The street lamps were on, lighting their way. Stores were closing up. Shopkeepers headed home after a long day's work. A serene, jazz-like tune drifted from an open window somewhere nearby.

Eventually the silence became so unbearable that they both simultaneously tried to break it.

"I need to tell you something," they both said.

"Jinx," Wanda joked dryly. "You owe me a coke."

Nora sighed, "What is it that you need to tell me?" She had a feeling that it was one of two things.

"Peter is my brother," Wanda said. "My _twin_ brother."

"Oh," was all Nora could think of to say. That hadn't been one of the two things she'd been expecting.

She tucked some hair behind one ear. "Okay."

"Okay?" Wanda seemed surprised. "That's all you have to say? You two _hate_ each other! And he's my _brother!"_

"It really doesn't matter to me," Nora said. "No offence."

Wanda laughed, "None taken!"

Anne patted a hand on her friend's clothed shoulder. "Besides, I may as well learn to deal with his annoying ass on a daily basis. Good practice for future jobs, and stuff… you know?"

"I have no idea how you turn everything into a learning experience," Wanda chortled.

"It's a gift," Anne said.

Wanda went silent again. _You've got nothing but good vibes from her. It's been over a month now._ This was a constant internal battle for her. Trust, or not to trust. _You_ can _trust her,_ she tried to convince herself. _But it's gone wrong so many times._

 _But maybe not this time. You can tell her._

She was nervous. Peter had always intervened before she tried to tell any of her possible friends the truth.

But he wasn't here now.

So she took a deep breath and asked, "Anne…? What do you know about mutants?"

The petite francophone cringed at the term: _mutants._ She really hated when people like her were referred to as such. Using the word 'mutant' made it seem like they were some kind of mistake.

 _An abomination._

"Not much," Nora lied. "I hear the occasional rant on the radio about how they're a 'danger to our society'; but not much else other than that."

Wanda nodded and contemplated the fact that her friend just might not be completely adverse to the idea of people with powers.

"So what if I told you _I_ was a mutant?"

Nora stopped dead in her tracks, trying to fein an _extreme_ amount of surprise.

"I don't know; did you just tell me you're a mutant?"

Wanda took a deep breath," Yes."

Nora let her jaw drop just slightly, and she stared straight at her closest -and only (alive)- friend.

"Oh," she said again.

Dejected, Wanda stared at he, arms crossed nervously over her chest.

There was silence. Nora had never really thought out hat she was going to say if Wanda ever told her. (She'd only found out the other day, for God's sake!)

Taking the silence as rejection, Wanda nodded sombrely. "It's alright," she said, getting the familiar feeling of _deja vu_. "I get it if- if we can't be friends anymore."

Wanda had barely taken three steps before she was pulled back under the streetlight.

Anne rolled her eyes as she tugged her friend away from the embarrassment that was the walk of shame.

"Wanda," she scolded, having to readjust her grip as the black-haired mutant kept trying to walk off. "What are you doing."

Wanda reached one glove-clad hand to the thin air, "Trying to escape this terrible moment in my life. Please," she said over-dramatically. "Just let me wallow in my sadness peacefully."

"Stop it," Nora commanded. And with one final tug Wanda was back at her side. "You're being silly."

Shaking the brunette off her side, Wanda whirled around.

"Really? It is _really_ silly to go home and eat a full tub of chocolate ice-cream? Is it really silly to cry myself to sleep over the fact that I've lost yet _another_ friend to them knowing the fact that _yes,_ I AM A MUTANT!" She screamed the last bit at the night sky.

Anne waited a minute for her to calm down, then she said, "Well, yes, it would be rather pointless to do that this time."

Wanda stared at her, confused.

Anne took the silence as permission to speak. "Oh, come one, Wanda!" She cried and shook her friend back and forth by the shoulders. "You really think genes matter to me?! So what if you have a few extra chromosomes! You need to get it into that thick head of yours! It. Does. Not. Matter," she said, accenting every word with a poke to the chest. "It doesn't matter if you're a mutant, Wanda. You're still my friend."

 _Tellhertellhertellher._

"Oh," was all Wanda said. A look akin to joy mixed with fascinated confusion on her face.

You can tell her now. Tell her you're one too.

But Nora couldn't. And neither could Anne. She couldn't tell her that _she too_ was a mutant.

Without any warning whatsoever, Wanda grabbed Anne in a crushing bear-hug.

Needless to say, the brunette narrowly succeeded in not making bodily contact while her friend thanked her over and over.

And while all this was hapening, Nora couldn't help but realize how similar her 'being a mutant does. Not. Matter' speech had been.

How similar it had been.

Compared to Tom's.

Eyeliner running down her rosy cheeks, Wanda told Anne that she _really_ needed to finish a science project that was due on Monday.

(A science project that Nora _herself_ also needed to complete.)

Wanda practically skipped home. And when she got there, she flipped her middle finger _right_ in her brother's face.

It was the happiest she'd felt in months.

.

Walking home, Nora felt anything but happy.

She was scared of what was to come.

She was nervous about if (and when?) Wanda ever found out about her mutation.

But mostly, Nora was confused.

Peter had grabbed her wrist. _And_ held her hand.

He _bare_ wrist. And _bare_ hand.

And yet, there had been no surge of memories.

Nothing had happened.

Just pure, physical, contact.

.

.

.

 **A/N: Well: that happened. The first of many secrets to be revealed!**

 **Thoughts?**


	13. Chapter 11Chapter 13

**A/N: Hello again! Thank you to everyone who's favourited/followed/reviewed, those all mean so much to me :)**

 **In this chapter, we take a quick peak into the past, so let me know what you think!**

anonymouscifan: **I'm glad it is making sense to you :) Thank you for your reviews, I cannot express how happy they make me :D**

Guest: **I'm glad you loved the chapter! And I hope you were surprised in a good way? :) And in explanation to chapter six, that takes place in X-Men DoFP's 'alternate future', where Nora and Peter were married. The majority of this story takes place in the 70's, where they were enemies in high school. Thank you for your reviews! :)**

Chapter 11/Chapter 13

 _October 5th,_ 1971.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there!"

The blond-haired boy immediately dropped to his knees and gathered the spilled books.

Grimacing apologetically, he handed them back to the girl he'd so inconsiderately bowled over in his rush to second period.

Nora just stared, mouth agape, as the dropped textbooks were deposited back into her awaiting arms.

 _Mon dieu, il est attrayant,_ [My god, he's attractive,] was all she could think.

"Hey!" She snapped back to reality.

"Are you alright?" _Such nice green eyes._

"I swear, I had no intention of crashing into you like that!"

She nodded, focusing completely on how his hair seemed to sparkle as he nervously ran his fingers through it.

Noticing her blank stare, Nora's accidental-assailant frowned.

"Are you sure you're not concussed? I can take you to the nurse's office if you're feeling dizzy."

 _You can take me anywhere you like,_ she was tempted to say.

He raised an eyebrow, "Are you new here? Because I don't think I've seen you around before…"

"Oh yeah," she stuttered, tucking away two of the overly-thick books in her ratter messenger. "I just started yesterday."

"Oh, really?" He smiled, and she felt like swooning. "Having any trouble with the schedule?"

Her deflated posture was all he needed for an answer. Even geniuses like Nora could agree that the timetable setup at Bridgemont High was _ridiculously_ complicated.

"Here, let me help." Ignoring the distraught sound she made, he plucked the heavily-folded sheet of paper from her pale fingers.

He scanned the information it held, and said, "Beverly, eh? One of those surname-places names."

Still staring at him; still very confused, she was impressed by his sporadic knowledge of… well whatever you would call the 'science of names.'

"Well then _Beverly._ How about I walk you to your next class; it's the least I can do after crashing into you like that!"

Nora did nothing to stop her blush as he gently took her by he sweater-clad arm.

"By the way, my name's Tom."

.

.

.

 _November 17, 1971._

Nora sat, curled-up in the corner of the room. Her laboured breathing filled the air. She wore only an old t-shirt and boxers.

The tears flew freshly down her cheeks, mixing with the dried blood on her upper lip.

It hadn't been a long trip. Just twenty minutes to 900-something AD; somewhere in Scandinavia, though she hadn't come across any vikings.

Though it wasn't _when_ she had traveled to. Rather, it was _where_ she had traveled from.

She had just gone over to Tom's house for a bit, to help him with -or as he thought: work on their pre-calculus studies together.

But then her nose had started to bleed.

Nora had always found that she was unable to use her powers in the moments before she disappeared. So no, she could not reverse time -or even stop it, for that matter!- as her only friend in the world became aware of her biggest secret.

Well, make that second biggest.

Tom had seen everything.

.

.

.

 _November 20th, 1971._

"OH MY GOD, BEV!" Tom grabbed her by the shoulders and shook until her glasses were askew over her nose.

"You need to get it through that thick -yet genius head of yours! _I don't care if you're a mutant!_ I know you're a good person; I know you're nothing like the psychopaths the media makes you all out to be. So listen to me. It. Does. Not. _Fucking._ Matter."

He noticed her uncomfortable stare at the almost skin-on-skin contact, and took a step back.

"You got that… m'kay?"

.

.

.

 _One month later._

They walked down the busy sidewalk of Salem's main street, arm in arm.

Tom often did this; randomly dropping everything to grab her arm like they were some eighteenth-century couple. But he was always sure to never touch her skin. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

Nora knew she was like a sister to him; that all of his flirtatious gestures were simply done in jest. But that somehow made it all the more painful.

Oh, she had it bad.

Up until a few moments from now, both of them were completely oblivious of the other's affection towards each other.

"I want you to come to my house for Christmas dinner," he said all-of-a-sudden.

Realizing how commanding it must have sounded, he cleared his throat and tried again.

"I- I mean… It would mean a lot to me… if you came to my house… to my house… for.."

 _Oh. So that's what he's been trying to say all this time._

Tom sighed, he'd dug his own grave in this one.

Grinning at the peachy blush on his face, Nora tugged one sweater sleeve over her right hand. Then she cupped his cheek in her covered hands and kissed the makeshift barrier.

"I'd love to."

It was stupid. But it was _their_ stupid.

.

.

.

Then it happened.

On Monday, Beverly collapsed in the girls' change-room. Screaming, all the other occupants ran out while she convulsed uncontrollably on the floor.

This was one of those rare occasions when she had something resembling a seizure before she travelled. And it just so happened that Tom tried to help her.

That was his first mistake. Hers had been when she'd stayed in Salem, despite their obvious affection towards each other.

Thomas Greenwell was a relatively-important, yet not well-known historical figure. His name was never put into a textbook, and his disappearance was never solved.

To this day, his family blamed Beverly Winston as the main cause of his presumed death

They were right.

.

.

.

 _February 23rd, 1972._

"Hey!" Wanda called. "Wait up!"

Anne slowed her run to a steady jog. "Sorry," she said; hardly out of breath. "I didn't mean to go off like that."

"It's cool," Wanda was breathing heavily. "You're quite good, you know? At running, that is."

"Yeah, I find it's a good way to clear my head."

"Uh huh…" Wanda stopped jogging abruptly, then walked from then on.

Nora tried hard not to think of Tom. But as her and Wanda grew closer and closer as friends, her flashbacks of before became much too frequent.

She was cautious; more than she had been back then. Nora had set up multiple 'safe houses' to and from the school, just in case.

Just to be clear: safe houses were places she would able to travel to and from safely. (If she weren't able to get home.)

For example, the abandoned Japanese Restaurant on Harvie Street was the closest one to Maple Grove. No one had occupied it for years, so there was less than a thirteen percent chance for it to be compromised.

"Hey," Wanda said again. "You okay?"

Anne shook her head and shook her head. "Huh? Oh, yeah; I'm fine."

Wanda chuckled, "Okay, now I _know_ you're lying."

Nora didn't say anything.

"It's alright to have secrets," Wanda stated, slightly put off by her silence. "And just because I told you one of mine, I don't expect you to become an open book straight away!"

"Thank you," Nora murmured.

She chose that inopportune moment to jog again.

"Oh, come on!" Wanda groaned as she struggled to keep up with her shorter -yet somehow faster friend.

Even if there was a substitute teacher, -as there was today- Coach Kessler managed to keep an iron grip over the activities of the gym class.

After this two-mile run, they were set to play a game of soccer. Very few people looked forward to it. This was probably because there were actually _two_ PE classes combined in the one.

The first contained people such as Nora. Wall-flowers who wanted to do well, but weren't overly-competitive and _definitely_ didn't want to be noticed.

The second "class" contained mostly hardcore jocks and the bunny squad. Unsurprisingly, Peter was in this group.

"Ugh, can you _believe_ Rosie's gym strip today?" Wanda remarked as her sibling and said prep jogged past them.

"Well you can certainly call it _strip_ ," Nora said, pushing back a rather _colourful_ memory of the two of them in the janitor's closet. (Peter's point of view, of course.)

"Anne!" Wanda giggled.

"Oh you know I'm right."

It was true. Neither of them had any idea how Rosie got away with what she wore. Sure, Wanda wore some cropped shirts, but not paired with things that were short enough to practically be underpants! (It was the complete opposite of Nora's cover-it-up-but-not-like-a-mormon version of "style".)

Maybe it was part of Rosie's rebellion against her Dad? He was a cop, after all.

"You know," Wanda said, gesturing at the troop of jocks just ahead of them. "Peter used to be in that crowd."

"What?" Peter? Long- (silver!) haired, lanky, kleptomaniac Peter? In with the crew-cut jockstraps?

"I know right?" Wanda slowed their pace to a brisk walk. "He was on the soccer team and everything."

Nora knew this story. Something to do with Rosie, (obviously) and a robbery. It ended with him getting kicked off the team.

"He was cut just before Halloween," Wanda said. "Mom found a stash of stolen jewelry in his room -the total ended up being over a thousand dollars."

He had stolen them for Rosie. But Nora didn't say that out loud.

It was his last -and only successful- attempt to get her attention. It had been a valiant move, even if it'd cost him his relationship with his sister; and now he was stuck with her.

They were nearing the finish line (though it was technically a stop sign) when Wanda said, "Hey; you wanna come to a game with me?"

"To a soccer game?" Nora knew what it was going to be. _Senior boys deciding semi-final for the state championships. If this was lost, the team was out._

"Yeah, it's the semi-final."

 _Bingo!_

"If they lose this, they're out."

Anne shrugged, "Why not? Do you think they'll win?"

"Hell no," Wanda snorted. "Peter was their MVP. How they've made it this far… Well, it's a miracle!"

.

.

.

 _February 26th, 1972._

"Weeeeeellcooome, everyone! To the Eastern Soccer Semi-Finals of the Senior Boys' Maryland State Championships! Today we have two powerful teams facing off -or should I say, kicking off- against one another:

"All the way from our capital, Annapolis… I give you the Riverside Panthers!"

A resounding roar of approval came from the left side of the bleachers as the opposing team ran onto the field.

"And having fought bravely -despite losing a valuable player last fall-" a series of _boos_ followed this comment. "-Put your hands together, folks! For your very! Own! Maple Grove Wildcats!"

The right side of the bleachers exploded at this, and Nora couldn't help but smile at the enthusiasm. She mad her way towards the playing field, and despite being over 100 feet away, could clearly hear the several hundred screams of the Wildcats' supporters.

"I must say! That was loud! How about another cheer for the _beautiful_ weather we are having today?" (Which was odd, since it was February.) "-As well as our sponsor: Dave's Pizzeria, open every day, every week…" Nora toned out the announcer's irritatingly-cheerful tone as she reached the bottom step of the bleachers.

"Ahh!" She made the small noise of shock as a pair of red-and-orange pom-poms were shoved in her face. The cheerleaders at Maple Grove all wore matching skorts and tops. And to represent the "wildcat" mascot, Rosie Robinson had on a a pair of furry ears and a faux tail sewn to the back of her skort.

Nora couldn't help notice that her uniform seemed a bit smaller than everyone else's.

Nora made her way up the bleachers, having to dodge hot-dog merchants as well as the occasional couple. Where was Wanda? She'd said she would meet her here-

"Eep!" Nora squeaked as she was pulled down into one of the aisles.

"Let go of me!" She said, pulling her hand away from whoever had- Oh. It was _him._

"Relax," Peter cautioned. "I didn't mean anything by it. You okay? You looked lost. Never been to a soccer game before? Though I guess you don't seem like the type."

Anne blinked. He'd just said all of that. In _one_ breath.

He shook his head before returning to the pre-game show.

The cheerleading squad had just raised Rosie to the top of their human pyramid. She raised one pom-pom in the air, flashed her brilliant smile, and flipped back down to the ground. The cheerleaders continued their routine, that of which consisted of a series of splits and cartwheels, finished off with a "gooOOO, Wildcats!"

Everyone supporting the home team cheered.

Rosie, Nora noticed, kept looking up to where she was seated. She was even more weirded out when the blonde blew a few kisses her way.

Chuckling at her bewilderment, Peter said, "They're for me, not you." He returned the gesture with a half-hearted wave.

Or, right. Of course. Nora blushed; what had she been thinking? She knew, more than anyone else, just how much of a couple they were.

They referee blew his whistle, and the game was off. Nora chose that moment to notice how strangely Peter was dressed.

He had on a green baseball hat (which looked like it had a picture of the Empire State building stitched on it), a large brown trench coat, and a pair of black rain boots. It was completely unlike his usual all-silver attire.

"Halloween isn't for another eight months, you know," she said.

Confused, he stared at her for a second, then laughed quietly.

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly _permitted_ to come to these games anymore," he checked his watch.

"Because you were kicked off the team?"

"Yep," he grimaced. "And even if I _was_ allowed. People hate me so much I'd be run off the field if I weren't _in disguise_." He wiggled his fingers mysteriously when he said 'in disguise.'

Anne raised an eyebrow and nodded; clearly imagining the spectacle of Peter being run out of town by the school's entire soccer population. (It really seemed like every single student was crammed onto the bleachers!)

Ten minutes into the game, the Panthers scored the first goal, making the score 0-1.

At this, Peter clenched his fists and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

Nora spent the next few minutes enjoying his little outbursts. It seemed that every other play made by the Wildcats was deemed 'unworthy' in his eyes.

"Oh Jesus Christ," he muttered as the Wildcats goalie just _barely_ stopped the ball by the tips of his fingers. "I have no idea why they replaced _me_ with _Rickson_."

Nora was intrigued, "You're the goalie?" According to the memories she'd saved, he was a defensemen.

He leaned back on the bench, obviously trying _very_ hard to keep from jumping onto the field.

"I _was_ the goalie," he corrected. " _And_ the defense, _and_ the striker -if they needed one," he added.

"Huh." Nora was impressed, but not that surprised. He could probably be the whole team if he wanted to.

By halftime the score was 3-1 (for the opposition) and Wanda was still nowhere to be found.

"I swear," Nora breathed, elbows on her knees. "She better be chained to an atom bomb somewhere for her to be taking this long…"

"What? Wanda?" Peter's eyes widened, and he put a hand to his forehead. "Oh shit. Right, I was supposed to tell you-"

"You're forgetful, aren't you?"

He waved her off, "Yeah, sorry, whatever. Wanda wanted me to tell you that she wasn't coming. She's having one of her headaches, and now that you know _everything_ about us I assume you know what that means…" His voice trailed off.

"Yeah, right.. everything.." Whenever Wanda was away with one of her 'headaches', that meant she was having an attack. And _that_ meant something along the lines of her 'alternate-reality-visions' being to much for her to handle.

Peter turned back to the game and Nora wondered what she was still doing here.

Fifteen minutes left, and the score was now 5-3. The Wildcats' second goal had been on a penalty shot.

Nora had to restrain Peter several times as Rickson made mistakes so juvenile even _she_ could tell he was the worst possible choice for a goalie. But now she just felt out of place. What was she doing here? She hated sports! And Wanda, her only reason for showing up, wasn't even here!

After waiting three more minutes, (one more goal, a million more mistakes) Nora got up to leave.

"Where're are you going?" Peter asked.

"Home," she replied.

"But the team needs you -they need all the support they can get."

He seemed to really care for this, and Nora pitied him for it.

"No one needs me, Peter," she said, shrugging off his sincere puppy-dog stare. "And besides, it's not like they're going to win now."

"You don't know that!" He exclaimed indignantly.

"Yes, I do." She gestured to the downcast fans moping in the stands; banners and flags long forgotten.

"Wanna bet?"

She sighed, "Must _everything_ be a gamble to you?"

He shrugged, "Why not?"

"It's stupid."

"Then do you forfeit?"

"Well, I haven't even heard the wager," Nora said defensively. She was up for an easy win, especially if it was against Peter.

"Alright," he paused to think. "They lose, you get bragging rights and _all_ of you wages for the next month." He said the last part quietly, noticing her cringe at the mention of his on-going blackmail. "They win, you go on a date with me."

"What?!"

"Come on," he held out his hand for her to shake. "Besides, you said it yourself -they're not going to win."

Knowing he had her hooked, Anne rolled her eyes and shook on it.

"Tell me the results on Monday." Then, without giving him a chance to retort, she turned tail and left.

"Hey! You aren't gonna stay until the end?"

Nora turned her serious gaze to the girl who'd spoken.

Delores trembled slightly at the dark-haired girl's stare.

"You know I'm right," Nora said.

She walked away from the field, leaving a trail of gaping mouths in her wake.

When she was halfway across the school campus, Nora heard a loud cheer arise from the Wildcats' side of the bleachers.

 _Weird. That doesn't sound like a losing team._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 **A/N: Thoughts?**


	14. Chapter 12Chapter14

**A/N: Hello everyone! I can't** **believe we're almost at 4000 views! Thank you for all your follows/favourites/reviews. I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

anonymouscifan: **Ohmygoodness. Every time I read one of your reviews it makes me smile :D 3 Haha, I _do_ agree that Peter has a few juvenile attributes, and am glad that you are enjoying this so much!**

 **I obviously _don't_ own X-Men. It's been so long since I wrote a disclaimer, but just to clarify. I don't XD**

Chapter 12/Chapter 14

 _March 3rd, 1972. Maximoff Residence._

"HeymomsothisisAnneandwe'regoinguptomyroomso _please_ keepBrygitfrombotheringus, bye!"

Anne tried to give Ms. Maximoff a wave; but her trying-to-actually-be-friendly gesture was stopped by Wanda pulling her up the set of carpeted stairs and out of sight.

Ignoring Anne's raised eyebrows, Wanda led her friend into a room before shutting the door and collapsing against it. Wanda slid down until she was sitting on the floor, her back was to the door.

"Sorry about that," she muttered. "I just don't want my mom to ask you a bunch of questions."

Anne nodded, taking in her surroundings. Wanda's room seemed to have two completely different sides it. On the right, there was a princess-themed bed, covered with a sheer veil. On the floor, there was a bright purple shag carpet, and next to the single window (which, of course, had princess-y shutters) was an ornate dresser that doubled as a book case.

The left side was a completely different story. Various posters plastered the entire opposite wall, displaying a series of band concerts as well as various music competitions. A large mirror hung above the study desk -that of which was cluttered with an endless supply of dark-themed make-up items. The entire room was messy to the point of no return. (Completely the opposite of Nora's four-plex.)

"S- sorry about the mess," Wanda stuttered as she tried to shuffle away the many spare items of clothing spread across the floor. "I don't usually have people over.."

Anne shrugged and gingerly sat down on the dark duvet. She noticed the large instrument case in the corner.

"What do you play?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

Wanda seemed surprised by her interest. "Oh? That? It's nothing… I play electric bass at home. It's apparently "not an orchestra instrument"," she said, making little quotation signs with her fingers. "But I play _upright_ bass in the school band; and, um, violin.. and saxophone…"

"Cool," Nora said. She knew full well that Wanda was leaving out the fact that she was currently taking flute lessons, and had been playing piano since she was five.

"You really think so?"

"Yeah," Nora flopped onto her back and inspected the ceiling. She could see faintly-painted-over star patterns up there; probably from some childhood dream to be an astronaut. "I wish I could do something like that."

Wanda left the room, and appeared a minute later with a plate of cookies and two cups of apple juice.

"I barely managed to get all of this," she laughed, brushing away numerous vials of nail polish before placing the snacks on her desk. "Peter's keeping Brygit busy -by the way, I am _so_ sorry about last Saturday. I woke up with a migraine.. and, well, yeah…"

"One of your reality fuck-ups?" Nora asked.

Wanda nodded, "Yeah.. one of those, things.."

Nora tried to lighten the mood by suggesting that they study for the Biology test on Monday.

"Ugh!" Wanda groaned and flopped down on the floor at the foot of her bed. "I was _trying_ to forget about that!"

"Really?" Nora joked, moving over until she was perched on the edge of the mattress. "But why would you _ever_ want to do that?"

Wanda lay her head back and Nora let her fingers pull back a few strands of hair.

"Mind if I braid it?"

"Knock yourself out."

Cracking open her textbook, Wanda began to read aloud as Nora interwove the hairs at the crown of her head.

 _"Viruses; a structure that contains a strands of RNA or DNA surrounded by a protective protein coat. They cannot live outside of cells."_ She paused, "So people think they are non-living?"

Nora shrugged her shoulders, "That's one of the theories getting tossed around."

"Creepy; imagine that there are non-living _-_ sorry: _abiotic_ things in our body!"

"Yes," Nora joined together two small strands of hair. "Fascinating."

Wanda groaned and moved to hit her head with the textbook but Nora tugged her back into place. "These definitions are too complicated for me to remember! I can't be expected to memorize the _exact_ scientific meaning!"

"Well, actually, you are." Nora grimaced at the lopsided braid and then pulled it out to start over. It had been a while since she'd done anything with her hair -let alone anyone else's!

Noticing her friend's deflated posture, Nora tried a different angle. "Just try to simplify the meaning into something you can understand. For example… viruses are just things with a protein barrier and bits of RNA and DNA inside of them. Also, they happen to be in cell-arrest."

Wanda didn't get it at first.

"Eh? Ehh? Get it? 'Cell-arrest' instead of house-arrest?"

"Oh my god."

.

.

"Hey! This is actually really good!" Impressed, Wanda flipped the braid over one shoulder.

"Thanks?" Nora said.

Wanda's eyes widened, "Oh no, I didn't mean it like that! I mean- you just don't seem like the hair-braiding type."

Nora shrugged, "Fair enough."

Wanda was silent for a moment, "Think you could do this for my recital on Sunday?"

"Recital? For what?"

"Oh it's just this stupid violin-music-competition thing. If I win I'll go onto the State Championships."

Joining her on the carpeted floor, Nora said, "Well that doesn't sound so stupid."

Wanda's laugh hadn't an ounce of humour in it.

"Oh believe me. It is stupid. And serious _too._ I have to be dressed up and everything."

Wanda carefully finished the coat of dark purple on her right index finger and took a deep breath.

"I'm actually really nervous, you know? I got this far last year, and I actually won!"

"That's awesome!" Nora tried to sound interested, but she already knew what Wanda was going to tell her.

"But there was -still is, actually- this stupid-expensive entry fee for the state competition. Mum had just gotten laid off at the time, and even with the hundred dollars I had won… Well, we couldn't scrape the money together in time…"

"Oh," was all Nora could think to say. Hearing the story in person made it seem all the more sad.

"Yeah," Wanda sat with her back pressed against the wall. "I just _have_ to win this time. I need to prove that I _can_ amount to something. I'm gonna show those snobby-rich big-wigs in Annapolis that you don't need _money_ to be good."

Nora nodded, noting the nervous shake in her friend's hand

"Also," Wanda added. "There's this huge jackpot at the end of State. If I can just get in the top three… Then I'm guaranteed my trip to Europe." She said the last part so quietly, Nora barely heard it. But she did catch Wanda's eyes flicker to a poster on the wall declaring the "wonders of Poland."

Nora decided that it was time to get it over with, and she took her friend's hand in hers. "I promise you, Wanda. You _will_ win this again. And you _will_ go to the State Championships. And you. Will. Kick. Ass."

Slightly weirded-out by this new "wild side" of Anne's, Wanda didn't notice the brunette's eyes bulge and her teeth clench as every one of Wanda's memories were uploaded into Nora's brain.

Nora snapped her fingers, and then spent the next four minutes of _her_ time (not _real_ time) screaming out the pain.

.

.

.

 _March 6th, 1972._

It was a two-hour drive to the next town, where the county meet was being held. Two hours of Pink Floyd blaring out of the station wagon's speakers, and two hours of Nora getting squished in the back seat.

Wanda was on her right, nervously tapping out the beat to some concerto on her jigging right knee. Peter was on her left, randomly bursting out into guitar-solo-esque-song at certain points of _Echoes,_ ( _Pink Floyd; Meddle - 1971_ ) much to the chagrin of everyone else present.

It astounded Nora that _one song_ (that wasn't a classical piece) could go one for _twenty-three minutes._

The back seat was definitely _not_ built for holding three (pretty much) grown teenagers. So for the majority of the trip Nora found herself pushed halfway onto either Wanda or Peter's lap.

Oh, how she envied Brygit for getting to sit in the front, even if she was strapped into a booster seat.

When they got to the performance hall, it was only then that Nora realized how underdressed she was. So she went back a couple hours and made sure to wear something that wasn't paint-splattered or ripped at the knees.

She found Wanda in the bathroom, and it was easy to tell that she was freaking the fuck out.

"Oh, god, oh god, oh god, oh god." Her recently-shined combat boots paced across the grey tiles of the bathroom floor. "Shit, shit, shit… bar thirty-two… what's bar thirty-two again?"

"Come on Wanda, it's gonna be alright." Nora sat them down on the floor, not caring if anyone walked in. "You're gonna be alright."

She began to intertwine her fingers in her friend's hair.

"Alright!? I can't be alright! I have to be perfect!" Wanda cried.

"Oh, fuck perfect!"

"No, no, no," Wanda stuttered. "You don't understand."

Nora _did_ actually. She understood _exactly_ how Wanda was feeling at this moment.

"Rosie's here," Wanda continued. "Apparently her little brother is some kind of musical prodigy, or something."

 _Oh._ Nora hadn't been aware of that.

"I- I- just can't lose to him, you- you know? I'd never hear the end of it…"

Nora pulled the elastic she'd grabbed earlier out of her jacket pocket and twisted it around the end of the braid. This had been her record finishing time for any kind of french braid!

"Well," she said. "The all you need to do is place ahead of that one guy, right?"

"Well I kinda want to win the whole thing too…" Wanda muttered as she got up and brushed off her black cotton dress. It had had lace on the shoulders, and went down to her knees. Her combat boots were paired with black leggings.

Eyebrows raise, Nora said, "You _kinda_ want to win this?"

"Oh you know what I mean…"

"I don't think I do." Nora smirked as she saw how riled up Wanda was getting.

"Alright!" Wanda threw her hands up. "I want to win this! I _have_ to win this!"

"You are _going_ to win this!"

"I'm gonna win this!"

"Yeah!" Nora said. They tried to high-five, but failed miserably, with Wanda's had hitting Nora's elbow.

"You two lesbians done in here?"

They jumped as one of the stall doors opened to reveal Rosie's cocky figure. She wore an unsurprisingly low-cut shirt paired with some high-waisted jeans. On her arm hung a purse that was probably worth more than the place where Nora was living in.

Compared to Nora's bellbottoms and faded blouse, Rosie looked like a movie star.

The blonde looked Anne up and down unappreciatively. "I did warn you," she said.

Wanda stepped in front of Anne protectively, causing Rosie's attention to be shifted to her instead.

Rosie smirked, then added, "Oh, you may want to head back there… something about a last minute schedule change?"

Nora pulled Wanda out of the bathroom before Rosie could do any more damage.

"Don't pay any attention to her," the brunette ordered.

"Oh, I wasn't," Wanda said. "I was too busy changing all the pressure valves in the bathroom sinks."

The two of them paused for a few more seconds before hearing the unmistakable sound of half-a-dozen faucets simultaneously exploding. (As well as the shrill, girly scream of a prissy teenager getting her so carefully constructed outfit utterly _ruined_.)

Wanda scurried away as sonar they got into the theatre. Violin in hand, she said that there was a separate seating area for the competitors.

Nora made her way over to where the rest of the Maximoffs were. She sat down in between Peter and Brygit, taking note of the six-year-old's princess dress. Moments after she took her seat, the lights dimmed.

Nora joined in on the clapping as a man of (obviously) some importance took the stage.

"Thank you." His voice echoed up and around the arched ceilings. "And welcome. Welcome to all of our talented participants; to their parents who drove them here from all across the county." -For some reason, people chuckled at this. "And welcome to our esteemed judge: Mr. Maxwell Scott."

A greasy-haired man wearing a much-too-small suit stood up from the judges table and waved.

The introducer went on to speak of how this was the tenth-annual music festival; what businesses sponsored it; and how only the _top three_ (out of sixteen) contestants would be advancing.

"-and if you have not received an advance envelope up until one week from now," the man on the stage chuckled; again, for reasons unknown. "Well, I supposed we can all assume to see you again next year."

Aside from Wanda -who was staring intently at the stage, no doubt devising her plan of attack- there were only a few others who didn't look like they were going to hurl.

One boy -who looked no more than twelve- was rocking back and forth in his seat, pouring over his music in a last ditch memorization attempt. Another girl -most likely Amish by the look of her country/home-made clothes- was slowly turning a shade of red that most painters had yet to discover. She nervously rotated her clarinet in her hands, taking deep breaths in and out.

Nora frowned, _this is terrible! I'm pretty sure at least half the kids present don't even want to be here!_

The first competitor was called up to the stage. _(Class twenty-seven; number zero-one.)_ And thus, it began.

Each of the pieces ranged from five to fifteen minutes long. Nora realized why it had started so early; at this rate, it would take all day to get through everyone!

After each performance, the judge would join the student on the stage ad congratulate him or her on getting this far. Then, he would proceed to ruthlessly dissect every single mistake they had made. Everyone watched as each child's dreams were crushed into varying numbers of pieces.

Even to Nora -who knew very little about music- it seemed a little harsh.

One hour into it all, and they had only got through three people.

"What number is Wanda," Anne whispered to Brygit.

The princess said nothing, only held up five fingers.

Either way, Nora had to pee, so she left.

"You bitch!" She was slammed up against the wall mere seconds after exiting the theatre.

Rosie was certainly a sight to behold. Her golden hair was now frizzy and matted, and had long since fallen out of its ponytail. Her makeup had been ruined by the water, and her clothes were soaked through to the bone. Apparently, Wanda had gotten a bit carried away.

"You ruined my outfit! You bitch, I know you did it!" Rosie screeched as Peter pulled her off of Anne. (He had left the auditorium a few minutes before her.)

"Rosie, calm down!" He struggled to keep her feet on the ground and her hands from clawing Anne's eyeballs out. "There's no way she could've done it!"

"Of course there is!" Rosie pointed an accusatory finger at Anne. "She did something with the water! _She's_ a _mutant!"_

"Actually it would've been the pipes," Anne blurted out. "One, or two of the pressure valves, to be exact." _Why had she said that?!_

"She confesses!"

Peter put a strong arm around Rosie's arm and began to guide her away. _Go,_ he mouthed to her. His eyes then not-so-discretely trailed down her body, widening as they went.

Nora rolled her eyes, _boys. They all have the same one-track-mind._

She went to the bathroom, but when she tried to wash her hands, Nora found something very strange.

She wiggled her fingers; she _felt_ them moving. But when she held her hand up to her face, there was nothing there!

From her elbow down, there was nothing but a faint, fuzzy outline of her forearm and hand's shape.

 _I need to get out of here._ And that she did. Nora left the function in a hurry, not bothering to inform her worried-looking friend.

This was a frightening new development in her powers. One that she didn't want or need.

When she tried to touch any solid object, (for example, the car she was trying to jack) it went straight through!

 _What the fuck is this?_

 _._

 _._

 _._

 **Thoughts?**


	15. Chapter 13Chapter15

**A/N: a pretty important chapter that I'm really excited to share with you guys! Thank everyone for all their favourites/follows/reviews! I hope you enjoy this update :)**

anonymouscsifan: **So many thoughts! It makes me smile everytime I read all of your speculations. And I** _ **do**_ **promise Rosie will be getting her 'just desserts' sometime soon… You have an interesting take on where Nora's new power may be going. But whether you're right or wrong, I'll not tell you just yet! Thank you for all your kind words, I don't know what I'd do without you :)**

Chapter 12/Chapter 15

 _March 10th, 1972. Maple Grove High School_

"Hey," Nora asked. "Can I sit here?"

"I don't know," Wanda glared up from her place on the floor. "Why are you asking? Oh, wait. Is it because you've been avoiding me all week? Or is it because you abandoned me at the recital? Honestly, both of those are entirely good reasons for me to be questioning our friendship."

"Ah… shit. I'm sorry." Nora had spent the last few days trying to control this new power of hers. It was difficult. If she let her mind wander, there was a good chance she'd find herself disappearing again!

Wanda reluctantly let Anne sit down beside her.

"I got- I got a call at the venue," Nora had to come up with something quick. Surprisingly, she hadn't thought ahead about this confrontation.

"Really," Wanda said sarcastically. "From who?"

"My- my parents… they were in town."

"Oh!" Wanda set her juice box down and clapped her hands together. "Alert the press! The famous _Greenwell_ Ambassadors have come to town!"

"Come and gone," Nora said, staring forlornly out the wall of windows opposite them. "They were only back here for a few days" (lie) "and then Mum was called back to… Argentina," (lie) "for some 'meeting of the nations.." (Lie.) "I probably won't see them again for a few more months."

"Oh jeez," Wanda put an arm around Anne and the brunette gratefully accepted the embrace. "I'm sorry man, I had no idea."

Nora felt horrible turning the tables on Wanda. _She_ was the one who should be apologizing. Apologizing for her stupid power surge.

Wanda knew (or at least thought she knew) how Anne felt. Her mom had been ditched by her and Pietro's dad when they were infants.

They finished their lunch in silence, but not before Wanda exclaimed, "Oh my gosh! I completely forgot!"

"Forgot what?" Nora raised an eyebrow at her sudden excitement.

"Well you weren't exactly there to see me preform…" Wanda's voice trailed off and she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Nora almost choked on her sandwich. "Omh my gawsh! Yoo wern!"

"I won!"

"Fuck yeah!" Nora pumped a fist in the air.

But those celebrations were quickly interrupted by the arrival of the school's vice-principal.

"Must I remind you to watch your language, Miss Green?" He was shocked at the usually-quiet student's suddenly foul use of speech.

Nora's eyes widened. "Shit! Sorry! Oh wait- shit! Ah, fuc-" Wanda clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the word vomit.

But it was to no avail; the damage was done.

Vice-Principal Bruner whipped out a piece of paper from the many he had ready.

"Detention, Miss Green!"

He stalked away, leaving the two teenagers to stare in horror at the blindingly-green detention slip.

.

.

.

 _Later that day…_

Usually, Nora enjoyed a trip to the library -even though Maple Grove's book collection was more barren than the Sahara Desert. But today she walked through the heavy double doors for an entirely different reason.

Instead of casually browsing through the meagre reference section, today Nora would have to spend one hour confined to one of the many uncomfortable desk chairs.

Well, she'd always wanted to know how many tiles there were on the ceiling. (Note the sarcasm.)

Nora sat down hesitantly in an empty desk chair; she was completely unsure of what to do.

Oh, she was in for it now.

Nora'd been tempted to skip, but she had come to the conclusion that that would draw even _more_ unwanted attention to her.

She'd never gotten a detention before. She'd never even come _close._ In all her years on the run, Nora had kept to herself. Never drawn unnecessary attention; rarely made connections; and had never, _ever_ been given a detention.

She didn't even know how to phrase it properly! Was it 'given a detention'? 'Gotten a detention'? 'Had a detention'?

"Alright everyone!" Bruner slammed an encyclopedia down on a table, jerking all those present to attention. "If it's your first time with us," he glanced -almost apologetically- in Anne's direction, "then I should tell you -as well as everyone else- are not allowed to leave until the hour is up." He checked his watch," So, that will be precisely at 4:30 PM."

And with that, he left them to their boredom.

Peter would've _usually_ listened to some music; tuned out the rest of the world; _maybe_ glanced at his math home work. But, ultimately, would have left within the first twenty minutes.

It wasn't like anyone could stop him. And, besides, he had racked up so many over the years, he came everyday -whether he was scheduled or not.

But today there was someone new sitting three desks in front of him. And he had a few questions he wanted to ask her.

"So," Peter drawled, dropping into the desk in front of Nora. "This must be your first- ah, shit. Wait a sec." For nearly half a minute, he struggled with turning the chair around. Its legs wouldn't budge -as they were caught in the desk- so he finally settled with sitting on it backwards, crossing his arms and settling his chin down on her French textbook.

"Smooth," she quipped.

"Still faking ignorance, I see," he retorted, though Peter felt like shit whenever her face blanched due to him mentioning her language-secret. "Well, it's not like either of us will be making that tutoring session today."

Nora rolled her eyes before fishing two one-dollar bills out of her bag and throwing them at his much-too-close face.

Peter tried not to seem reluctant, and snatched them out of the air before they hit the desktop.

Nora had never been dependant on money, so she didn't mind giving up half her paycheque to keep Peter's mouth shut. But still, she couldn't help but think that his weird attitudes towards the blackmail _he_ had started contributed quite a bit to their hate-tolerate relationship.

Ignoring him with an almost elegant ease, Nora did her best to take as long as possible to finish the french paragraph on her ideal house. (Large, lakeside, _Gone-with-the-Wind_ -esque mansion, with a spacious back garden -both flowers and greens.)

Sometimes it was fun, imagining what her life could be like if she was normal. If she could settle down somewhere.

"In case you're wondering," Peter said, startling Nora from her daydreams. "I _do_ know what I say last Saturday."

Nora immediately gave him a look that would've sent _hellhounds_ back to their shadowy masters.

"No, I don't believe you do."

She was petrified. She needed to leave, _now._ Before something worse happened. Before _anyone_ found out about _anything_ else.

Peter noticed her obvious stiffness, and left the conversation at that awkward note.

The clock struck 4:00, and at that moment, Nora felt an inescapable urge that she should leave.

 _This is one of Peter's thoughts,_ she told herself. _You need to resist it._

But she couldn't. Why should she stay for another half-hour when the Vice-Principal had, in fact, left the building ten minutes ago. (As he always did, according to Peter's memories.)

Almost simultaneously, he and Peter got up and left.

Neither could tell who was more surprised.

.

.

.

 _March 17th, 1972._

"Oh my god," Wanda clutched her stomach in agony. "I feel like I just swallowed a rock."

Nora took a calm, slow, extra-long sip of her water. "And that is why I did _not_ get the extra-large shamrock shake.

"Oh, but it had been such a good idea at the time!" It had been payday for Wanda on Monday, and she had chosen to spend some of it on a McDonalds' "feast" for her and Brygit. Nora had politely declined.

"Sissy," Brygit stood at Wanda's side, tugging her shirt sleeve. "I gotta pee."

"Okay," Wanda said. "I'll go with you."

Nora watched as the two of them walked back to the park washroom. She was glad her and Wanda were back to normal.

.

.

.

 _March 21st, 1972. Maximoff Residence._

"I really don't want to impose. My house is only-"

"Oh hush, dear," Ms. Maximoff chided as she closed the fridge with a loud _bang._ "It's no trouble what-so-ever! And, besides, I need to thank you _somehow_ for helping Peter this term. I don't think he would've passed French without your tutoring!"

Nora blushed, "Oh, right.. that."

Magda noticed the girl's embarrassment at the subject. Setting down the stack of plates, she activated her "mother mode".

"Now I know he can be a bit _hyper,_ and intimidating," she explained.

Nora scoffed internally at this. Hyper? Yes. But intimidating? She'd faced off against far worse than him. Invasive and annoying were two words she would use to describe Peter. But he wasn't all that intimidating… even with the expansive height difference.

"-has a big heart, I swear! He just has no idea what to do with it

Nora could definitely think of another organ he didn't know how to use. _His brain._

"-I was never one for spanking when they were children. But if he tries _anything,"_ Magda wagged a finger at Nora. " _Anything_ at all: don't hesitate me at all.

Ms. Maximoff seemed to zone out for a moment, and it took a bit of prodding on Nora's part to bring her back.

"Oh it was nothing, dear," she said, waving off Nora's concerns. "Just thinking of times past…"

She seemed to disappear again, just for a second, but then sprung back in full force. "Speaking of Pietro, would you mind calling him up from his den?"

Magda winced at her own use of the term "den". It sounded so… primal.

As Nora begrudgingly left to go 'wake the beast', Magda turned off the television. It was sprouting a depressing story about some Moroccan earthquake survivors' story. They'd already had enough sadness in this household -never mind it appearing on the television.

.

Nora tried calling to him from the top of the stairs, but there was no response.

Warily making her way down the wooden staircase, she noticed the many posters hastily taped up all over the wall. Most were either abstract signs from around the world, or band posters.

 _Well, I don't want to make assumptions, or anything,_ she thought. _But I'm guessing he likes rock._

Halfway down, the staircase took a ninety-degree turn to the left. In the corner, there were a bunch of stop signs propped up. If that wasn't a warning, Nora didn't know what was.

Nora was almost a bit disappointed when she reached the bottom of the stairs. There was a ping-pong table and a pong machine on one side of the room, and a hide-a-bed (in couch formation) on the other. She could honestly say with complete certainty that this was the most well-kept stash of stolen items Nora had ever seen.

Peter's basement couldn't be classified as "messy", but rather: _well organized_. (Which, in his case, meant that every available space was filled with carefully-stacked Twinkie crates.)

There was a song playing on the radio-system; Nora had never been one for music. It was all just a jumble of sounds to her. (In truth, she was tone deaf.) She slowly dialed down the volume -and nearly jumped out of her skin when Peter appeared next to the ping pong table.

It almost took him a minute to notice her, and when he did, he too jumped at her "sudden appearance."

"I thought stealth was supposed to be my thi- ah, shit!" Peter cried as he tripped over a pile of records in his advance towards her.

She stared at him in a way that said: _stealth? Really?_

Peter cursed as he re-stacked the pile, relieved that none of them were scratched -or worse, broken. He seemed to be tripping a lot around Nora lately.

"What're you doing down here?" He asked

"You- your mom wanted me to tell you-" _Shit._ She felt a spell coming on. Her right arm began to tingle. She couldn't be here, not now. Not with Peter in full view-

"Woah!" Peter was beside her in a flash, grabbing her elbow to inspect her now-fading forearm. "That's awesome!"

Nora had come to her answer weeks ago, that there wasn't anything special about Peter regarding her memory-absorbing power. She'd tested her theory on Wanda, as well as Delores Gotye from school. (Just to get someone from outside the Maximoff family.)

Nora'd come to the conclusion that she only received the memories of someone the _first_ time they touched. (And that there were no "updates" in further contacts.)

Nora assumed her tendency to not stay in a place for too long was the reason she hadn't discovered this before.

Still unnerved by the abundance of physical contact, Nora yanked her arm out of Peter's gentle grip.

"Dinner's ready," she muttered.

"Hey," he said. "I didn't mean anything by that… it's just- I think we're the only people in Silver Spring with, you know: _powers._ Well, Wanda too, I mean. Why haven't you told her about that, by the way? I mean, she told you about hers. But not the other thing… shit!" He clamped his hand over his mouth for a moment, then proceeded. "But it's gotta be a cool thing to have, you know? Invisibility… Almost more handy than super speed -which is mine, by the way -just in case you forgot-"

"I don't have invisibility," Nora said, breaking his tirade.

Intrigued, he asked, "Then what is it?"

She shook her head, "It's… complicated."

Peter groaned, "Jesus Christ, Anne! It can't be that bad! Why can't you just accept the fact that it's okay to be different! That it's okay to be a mu-"

Nora lunged forward and clamped her solid hand over his mouth, silencing him from saying anymore.

"Don't say it."

Peter raised an eyebrow, then slowly licked her palm. Anne drew back her hand in disgust.

"Don't say what?" He asked," Mut-"

"Don't!" She took a step back, self-consciously crossing her arms (arm?) over her chest. "Please.. just… don't use that word."

They were silent for a minute; he, trying to think of a new angle to aim for, and she, observing the many stolen artifacts around the room, (two lit-up "open" signs; sixteen different advent calendars -all out of date- and an unbroken piñata) trying to think of anything else than the moment at hand.

"Look," they both said at the same time. This somehow made the awkward silence even worse.

Nora shook her head and turned around in order to hide her blush.

"There's nothing wrong with being different," Peter said again, a strangely concerned look on his face.

Nora scoffed, turning over a 'special-edition' glass McDonalds' mug in her hand. "Oh yeah? Just tell that to the dozens of groups opposing that idea. To them, there apparently _is_ something wrong with us."

 _Us._

She'd said _us._ As in (kind of) finally recognizing herself as one of them.

Peter smiled. Sure, it was taking forever, and she was still as stubbornly attractive as ever. (Emphasis on the stubborn part.) But he was getting through to her.

.

"Cheers, everyone!" Magda said as they all clinked their punch glasses together. "And good job to _all_ of you on this last term."

While everyone else dug into their burgers and chips, Brygit proudly showed off her repot card. The tall, Polish woman was practically glowing with the fact that her youngest was taking after Wanda.

She loved Peter. She really did! (That came without saying.) But she saw a harder future for him -abilities or not- than her other two children.

"Remember when we got number grades?" Wanda joked.

"What? Oh, yeah, those were the days…" Nora was actively trying to avoid Peter's gaze. (Since their conversation in the basement, he hadn't stopped looking at her!)

Wanda noticed the ongoing interaction and scowled.

When everyone had finished their dinners, Wanda surprised them with a cake she'd gotten from the restaurant she worked at.

"Some idiot forgot to put in the cherry filling," she explained while cutting a minuscule piece for Peter. "So they were gonna throw the whole thing out."

Nora enjoyed the treat, even if it was a bit dry.

Not caring the slightest about his unjustly cut piece of black forest cake, Peter kept trying to get Nora's attention. She didn't know it, (and thankfully, no one else had noticed) but her pinky finger was still only half-visible.

"Are you sure you don't need a ride home?" Wanda asked. "It's no trouble; and I can drive you myself-"

"Wanda," Nora broke in. "You've already fed me. I can get home myself." She'd faked a phone call a few minutes earlier, asking her "parents" to pick her up. (AKA: walking a few blocks, then pausing time the rest of the way.)

"Alright, but -wait? Aren't your parents out of country?"

 _Merde._ How could've she forgotten? Her non-existent mother was supposed to be in Brazil. (Or had she said Argentina?)

"Oh- well- about that… my Dad…" Nora stammered, trying to come up with a suitable lie. All the while, Wanda grew ever more suspicious.

Strangely enough, it was Peter who came to her rescue.

"Father!" He blurted out, appearing in between the two of them. "Her Dad's here in 'Spring… while her Mum's in Brazil."

Irritated, Wanda poked Peter in the chest. "And just how would you come to know that?"

Slinging an arm around Nora's shoulders, Peter explained shortly: "We bonded in detention."

Wanda looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she retreated back through the front door, black skirts swishing around her ankles.

Nora shrugged off Peter's arm before taking a few tentative steps down the stone path that lead up to the Maximoffs' porch.

"It's Argentina, actually," she said, putting a hand to her now throbbing temple.

"It's bullshit, actually," Peter deadpanned. "It is, isn't it? The whole 'ambassador-parents' charade?"

"What's it to you- ahh!" Nora's spine twisted in an unnatural direction as she arched her back, hands pressed over her ears.

Instantly, Peter was at her side, Supporting Nora as her knees buckled. "What is it? What's wrong?" He asked, frightened, as she seemed to be having some sort of seizure.

Nora coughed, hacking up a gob of blood onto the paved stone. Her eyes were rimmed with gold, and the lower half of her body had already began to be pulled apart by the strands of time.

"-Help me-" she managed to choke out. "In a closet- confined.. space…"

"What?"

"The closet in the basement!" She cried out, pupils shrinking as the pain intensified. "In- there- lock the door.. Now!" She growled out the last part.

Nodding, Peter hooked one arm under her rapidly-disappearing knees while the other supported her back. Then they were back in the basement.

Nora wasted no time in getting as far away as possible from Peter. She scrambled away from him, falling to the ground as she locked the door behind her. Sighing in inopportune relief, Nora crawled until she was lying on the ground next to the bottom of the door.

She laughed quietly to herself, embracing the oncoming pain.

 _Oh, how similar this is to Tom… Why, oh_ why _did I stay?_

Peter banged on the door, and Nora reminded herself to thank him later on for his much-appreciated help.

"What's going on, Anne?! Should I get Wanda?"

"No!" She screamed, desperate to get her voice over the disturbing whistling that accompanied each of her travels. "You need to stay away! All of you! Stay out of the basement.. until I get back…" She knew there had to be physical contact for anything to go awry. But one could never be too careful.

"Get back?" Peter shouted, taking a few steps back as his so carefully stacked piles of twinkles began to shake.

It was like he had a miniature earthquake in his room!

Peter watched in a mixture of fear and amazement as a piercing scream filled the air and the empty space around the closet door flared a bright gold.

.

.

 **A/N: Just a quick explanation on the "number grades" thing. (If you're confused) Here in Canada (where I'm from) when we're in elementary school (grades K-5) we get graded in numbers instead of letters. I don't know if it's like that where you guys are from, so I thought I'd just better explain it.**

 **Thoughts?**


	16. Chapter 14Chapter16

**A/N: So I'm guessing a few of you guys are looking forward to this chapter ;) I hope you enjoy it :) Thank you to everyone who has favourited/followed/reviewed!**

 **And holy shit, this story reached 5,100 views! It seems so crazy to me, even though some of them are the same people, (and thank you _all_ for that) that people have bothered to click on this story, amongst all of the better ones on this archive, over 5000 times.**

 **So thank you. (I literally cannot say that enough.)**

anonymouscsifan: **I agree, it's about time Nora has owned up to Wanda! I** _ **do**_ **hope that their relationships aren't seeming too rushed. But by the sound of you and some others, it doesn't seem that way! Thank you for reviewing. I will never stop saying that.**

Guest: **I'm glad you are loving the relationship between Peter and Nora, and I hope you will like where it ends up ;) Thank you for your kind thoughts, I always appreciate them immensely :)**

 **And after that** _ **suuuuper**_ **long author's note…..**

Chapter 13/Chapter 16

 _March 22nd, 1960. Morocco, Africa._

As she sprinted through the once-beautiful port-city of Agadir, Nora cringed as her ears were assaulted by the tolling of bells and the screams of the people.

She had arrived just twenty minutes ago. The sun had been setting, and most of the citizens had been down at the beach -which had made it very easy for Nora to steal some clothes from an unmanned sales rack.

According to the information (as well as the language and memories) she'd gleaned from a passerby, there had been a massively-destructive earthquake here just under a month ago. (That explained the unusually run-down state of the city.)

There had been over 12,000 casualties, and there were still far too many missing.

She had just been planning to find a nice alcove to sit in, eat some _chicken tagine,_ and sort through her now expansive knowledge of Moroccan history, customs, and language.

Usually that's what she did during one of her travels. Nora couldn't risk rupturing anything in the delicate time flow she was continuously pushed through.

But of course, something had to go wrong.

All of the citizens were still on edge from the last earthquake, but it still somehow came as a shock to them when the tides suddenly receded in a matter of seconds.

 _"Do not bring anything with you!"_ A man shouted above the roar of the crowd; first in French, then in Moroccan. _"This is not a drill! I repeat; not a drill!Make your way quickly and safely to the nearest volunteer shelter; from there you will be directed to the highest and safest point available."_

It seemed that it would not be the earthquake, nor the impending tsunami that would be the most dangerous.

The throngs of people stampeding through the street would surely be more of a threat.

Suddenly, there was a terrible rumbling beneath the feet of every man, woman, and child. Several buildings a few blocks behind Nora gave a dramatic shudder, then collapsed in sync.

The crowd was shock-still for a moment, everyone staring in horror at what must have just caused thirty lives to be snuffed out.

Then the screams began anew as everyone found their feet being covered by the no-longer inviting water of the ocean. The tsunami -often more deadly than the actual quake- was here.

Nora found herself being swept along and had to sprint once more -lest be crushed under a thousand stomping feet.

 _Wait a minute,_ she thought. _Why the fuck am I running in real time?_

So she froze time and leisurely made her way past the dozens of paused bodies. Taking a deep breath, Nora gazed in horror at the frozen sight of the massive wave on the edge of the horizon.

There was nothing she could do to stop it, and Nora knew from experience that time _couldn't_ be paused if she wanted to go back to her present.

The only thing she could do was to get to a safe spot and wait it out.

 _"Lady, lady! Please help me!"_

 _Where the hell had this kid come from?!_

Nora had literally _just_ unfrozen time when a small boy appeared next to her.

 _"Help me, Lady! Please!"_ He cried again, tugging on her ragged shirt sleeve. She noticed he wasn't as dark as the rest of the locals. Most likely from some French ancestry during Morocco's Euro-Occupation.

Nora sighed, _"What is it?"_

He paused, shocked at the revelation that someone was _actually_ going to help him.

Then his speech returned, as fast as it had been before, _"It's my mother! She's hurt, and we can't get her out!"_

Oh man; _just what have you gotten yourself into Nora?_

Nevertheless, she let the boy lead her away.

The mother's legs were stuck under a fallen piece of rubble. Only she and her three children remained. Everyone else, as it seemed, had either gotten away of been crushed with the initial quakes.

As Nora took in the situation, the boy went over to his two (she assumed, younger) sisters.

Blood was splattered out from under where the woman was trapped. Her legs were obviously crushed beyond repair. Her chest moved far too quickly for anyone in a normal state.

Nora gulped, gaze shifting from the half-dead mother to her cowering children.

 _"You have to help her!"_ The boy cried, oblivious to the fact that there was no way his mother was going to survive.

Nora put a shaking hand on his shoulder, careful to only touch the ratty fabric of his t-shirt. _"How old are you?"_ She asked.

 _"Nine,"_ he said, straightening up a little.

 _"And your sisters?"_

 _"Four and six."_

 _"Do you have any other family members?"_

The previously-unconscious mother chose that moment to gasp awake. Shocking the other four people around her, she coughed up a pint of blood before slumping back to the ground.

There was no way they would be able to rescue her. Even with all the time Nora could muster, she couldn't lift a six-ton slab of rock!

 _"My babies,"_ the woman choked out. _"You must get them to safety!"_

Nora knelt down next to her shaking form. The woman's eyes pleaded with a sorrow matched only by those who had only a little left to lose. And if they lost what was most important to them, they would be broken.

These children were obviously her world. The least Nora could do was guarantee their safety.

 _"_ _I will save them,"_ she promised. _"But where-"_

 _"Their Aunt!"_ She barely managed her last few words. _"Refugee shelter.. safe.. with… her…"_

She said no more, and Nora knew she was dead.

Nora took a few steps back and let the children clamor over their mother. They tried to get some kind of response out of the body. But it was no use. The corpse was already growing cold.

Startled by the sudden cool wash over her feet, Nora looked down to see a grimy, brownish-blue water covering her ankles.

The sea had returned. The tsunami was here.

Nora ran a distraught hand through her hair. Oh lord… What was she going to do? There was no way she-

Oh. Right.

Sometimes Nora forgot what she was capable of.

She felt horrible dragging the children away from their mourning, but they couldn't linger any longer.

Bracing herself, Nora scooped up the youngest two so that they were hanging off her back and took the boy's hand in hers. All three of them were scarily-skinny, so it wasn't too much trouble to carry their weight.

Nora had discovered a while ago that if she was touching someone while she stopped time (or travelled) they would be swept along with her.

Ignoring their outraged and mourning cries, Nora dragged the children up through a series of alleyways and roads to a hill one mile away. (Twenty minutes in 'Nora time'.)

To their Aunt, it seemed a miracle that the pale-faced woman had been able to get the children to safety in time.

Nora couldn't help but smile at the Aunt's frenzied "thank yous".

Sometimes, time travel wasn't so bad.

It had been three hours (not including the twenty-plus minutes of time stops) since Nora'd travelled to Morocco.

And as her head began to hurt, she knew it was time to go.

She left, as she always did; unnoticed.

The people of Agadir stared, transfixed at the water and rumblings that were, once again, destroying their city. So it was easy for Nora to slip out of sight -and out of memory.

Or so she thought.

Reaching the start of a hilly path that would lead out of Agadir, Nora found her sleeve being tugged again.

It was the youngest sister, Amal.

She said nothing, only smiled, showing off her toothy grin. She placed a beautiful red-and-white flower in Nora's hand before running back to what remained of her family.

Nora stood in the centre of the pathway, shocked by the small act of kindness.

These people. They had no idea how lucky they were. They still had each other -even if they had lost someone. They still had people who cared about them. People who would accept them no matter what.

Nora wondered what Peter and Wanda's reactions would be when she got back. Probably different than Tom's since they have powers too.

She imagined that Wanda would be pissed beyond belief.

And Peter would probably be interested in how her powers could be used to steal stuff.

Nora stumbled off to the side of the path as her legs began to be consumed by the light.

She wondered, if, maybe… Maybe she had someone that cared about her too…

.

.

.

 _Present day._

"What the fuck do you _mean_ she _disappeared_?!"Wanda cried. She was starting to run tracks into the carpet of their living room with her pacing.

Peter had to resist the urge to smirk, usually _he_ was the one who couldn't stop moving.

"I mean what I said, Wanda. Anne is gone. Vanished. Disappeared; whatever you wanna call it!" He gestured downstairs to his room, "I put her in the closet and- hey! She asked me to so don't give me that look- and a few seconds later there was this light" (he chose not to mention the screaming) "and when I opened the door, she wasn't there anymore.

Shocked, Wanda sat down on the couch next to her twin.

"But why would she want to go in there?" She murmured. "That's where you keep all your… porn…"

Peter chuckled, "I don't know, maybe she has a thing for Candida Royalle." He stopped at the look Wanda sent him," Okay, okay, jeez. But I'm being serious… It's like she already knew what was in there, or something… Like she read my mind…"

"Well how could she do that, Anne's not a mutant-" Wanda stopped abruptly, mid-sentence, as the realization dawned on her.

"Do you know who Anne's parents are?" Peter asked.

"Well, of course! They're international ambassadors for the US."

"Yeah," Peter said. "But do you know their names?"

Wanda rolled her eyes at him, "Of course I know my best friend's parents' names. They're… they're… Oh…" Wanda racked her brain, trying to come up with something to prove Peter wrong.

"Where did she tell _you_ her parents were away?"

"Argentina," Wanda stated.

"Hah," Peter laughed. "And you don't find it strange that such _important_ people would leave their only child home alone for months while they travel the world? Well, I guess we'll never know she meant that or Brazil…"

"Or you could just ask her," Nora deadpanned.

The Maximoff twins both jumped at this.

And to them, Anne would appear a moment later, five feet from where she'd been previously standing, a mug of hot water in her hand.

"Eh? Wha… how?" Was all Wanda could muster to say.

Peter just stood there, a somewhat impressed look on his face.

Nora slumped down into a large armchair and lolled her head back. She let herself enjoy this brief moment of pure, still silence.

After a minute, she spoke.

"Well then, I suppose I have some explaining to do."

.

.

From Peter, the questions came at an energetic and rapid-fire pace.

"So: what can you do?"

"To put it simply: I am a time-travelling genius who can absorb people's memories at first contact."

"Genius? How smart is genius?"

"I could have graduated high school when I was nine if I had wished to do so."

"What's the farthest you've travelled?"

"Oh… somewhere around 300 BC."

"What's it like in the future?"

"I can't travel to the future?"

"Awww.."

Nora chose to leave some parts out. She trusted the two of them, (Wanda, more so) but wasn't planning on telling anyone the gritty details anytime soon.

"So are you actually French?"

"Yes." (She told them _where_ she was from, not _when_.)

Wanda only had two questions. Which kind of scared Nora.

"What did you mean when you said 'absorb memories at first contact'."

Peter's hyper-spree faltered at this.

Nora took a deep breath, preparing herself for the oncoming awkwardness.

"When I make skin-on-skin contact with someone," she began, nervously twisting a stray strand of hair. "And I recently discovered with you two, in fact, that it only happens the first time. When I touch someone -oh stop giving me those looks Peter!" She took a deep, slow breath. "When I touch someone for the first time, I get all of their memories and abilities transferred over to me."

Both siblings visibly blanched at this.

"And by abilities," she added. "I don't mean your super speed or telekinesis. Like, if you were able to pitch a 90' in baseball, so would I. Or if you could name all the elements on the periodic table" (which she could) "then I would be able to as well."

She gave them a moment to let it sink in.

After a bit, Wanda asked her second question.

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

This caused Nora to twitch uncomfortably.

"I don't know Wanda! Why didn't you tell me that you're a grade-A lesbian?!"

Nora clamped a hand over her mouth the moment after she said it.

In less than a second, Peter was across the room and had Anne pinned against the wall by her throat.

"Take it back," he growled.

She could have taken him down in no time at all. But Nora felt some consolation in this 'well-deserved retribution.' She hurt herself often enough, but there was something different about being suffocated by someone else.

After a few seconds, her human instinct took over. Eyes bulging, Nora grabbed at his hands. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, her face began to turn a light shade of red.

Suddenly, Peter was hauled off Nora by his sister's telekinesis.

"Stop it!" She cried, gesturing at the brunettes's face, where tears were welling up in her eyes. "Can't you see she didn't mean it!"

"Oh, so now _I'm_ the bad guy!" Peter and Wanda were standing face to face, with Nora slumped on the ground a few feet away from them. "How can you be okay with her calling- calling you… _that_!?"

"Because it's what I _am_."

Peter left at this. He didn't want to be a part of anymore drama.

Nora's crying didn't last long, mostly due to the comforting whispers and hugs from the friend she was so lucky to have.

"I'm so sor-"

Wanda shushed her apologies. Anne had confessed enough to her tonight for her to be sure she would never say _and mean_ anything like that to her.

"I've been on the run for so long," Nora said after she'd cleared up. "I rarely stay in a place for more than a couple months. The last friend I had… well, let's just say it didn't turn out so good…"

Wanda nodded, urging Nora to continue her story.

"I don't trust people very easily… With everything that's happened, that's why I didn't tell you at first…"

"Well I wouldn't expect you to!" Wanda chided. "You being a mutant is a big thing to come out with! -Even if it was by accident."

Nora twitched slightly at the mention of the word.

 _Mutant._ It didn't sound so bad when Wanda said it. Maybe she could get used to that.

"By the way," Nora asked after they had settled back in Wanda's room. "Where's Brygit and your Mom?"

It was nearly eleven pm, and she was surprised that neither of them had been awoken by the ruckus downstairs.

"Oh, them?" Wanda said between bites of strawberry-and-whipcream 'salad'. "They sleep like the dead. A heard of buffalo couldn't wake Brygit when she's havin' a good sleep."

Nora ended up sleeping at the Maximoff's that night. (A first of many.)And although she was still keeping a few _minor_ details from Wanda, she felt that tonight had been a huge stepping stone.


	17. Chapter 15Chapter 17

**A/N: So there was a bit of confusion after the last chapter… Nora said that she 'can't travel to the future'. Which technically isn't true. But it's only happened the one time, (when she was transported to the 20th century) and never since then. So she assumes that she can't do it anymore, and rather than getting into the messy details of explaining her _true_ origins (which is for _another_ chapter ;) she lied. Again. **

**So hopefully that clears a few things up ;)**

Guest: **Peter knew Wanda was a lesbian. But he hasn't exactly come to terms with it yet. And also, he is pretty protective of her. Him reacting the way he did, it's a combination of those two things.**

anonnymouscsifan: **Nora** _ **will**_ **be revealing her true name, but all in due time XD Thank you for** _ **all**_ **your thoughts and reviews. You're the reason my story has gotten the 30 review that it has!**

 **And holy shit, people! This story got to 30 reviews! I feel so juvenile saying this, but it honestly means so much to me. It makes me so happy every time I get a notification for one in my inbox.**

 **And finally, I'm sorry to say that there won't be an update next week. I'm away from home for a while, but I will update as soon as I get back :)**

Chapter 15/Chapter 17

 _April 17th, 1972. Maximoff Residence._

"What are you doing to my pants!" Nora cried, staring in horror as Wanda gleefully wielded the pair of extra-industrial-strength sewing scissors.

"Oh, relax!" She laughed. "It's only a few holes. And besides; the night is gonna be hot."

Nora didn't want to know what kind of 'hot' Wanda was referring to, so she kept with clutching the bedsheets as her supposed-friend mutilated her favourite pair of jeans.

The black-haired mutant cut some jagged holes around the knee caps as well as some slits across the thighs. Leaving it at that, Nora changed back into her now-airier bellbottoms. She didn't see the logic in all this. The only thing these cuts would lead to was premature fraying!

She blatantly refused the way-too-tight halter top, and went with a black cap-sleeve instead.

But when it came to her hair, she caved into Wanda's pleas and let her braid a few pieces back.

"I suppose you don't really need any make-up," Wanda said, reluctantly putting away the army-sized duffel full of cosmetics. It was strange, knowing that her vanity table actually had a _surface._

Nora rarely wore short sleeves. (And when she did, there was either a hoodie involved or she wasn't planning on going out.) Mostly because she didn't want to draw attention to her scars.

When Wanda saw the lines criss-crossing her forearms -some an angry red, others more faded- she simply gave Anne an understanding look before directing her to a vast collection of bracelets.

Finally, after an hour of primping and convincing, (mostly on Wanda's part) they were ready to go.

.

.

.

"So Rosie's parents don't know she's having the party?"

Wanda snorted, "Other than going to and from school -which she doesn't do half the time- I doubt her parents know half the shit she does."

Apprehensive, they waited on the edge of the sidewalk, letting a lone car pass through the dark street before making their way across.

"She fakes out-of-town police calls, just to get her Dad away. So having a party that usually lasts 'til three AM -and could potentially bring the house down- is the _least_ reckless thing she's doing."

"Like having unprotected sex with your brother," Nora blurted out.

Wanda's face went white. Her head dropped down and she clenched her fists. All the streets around them suddenly burst out with a flash of red.

In the darkness, Nora stammered, "Oh jeez, Wanda… I thought you knew."

The mutant shook her head slowly. "I had my suspicions… But there was no way I wanted them confirmed."

Nora took her friend's trembling hand, and squeezed it in a comforting way.

"Someone could see us," Wanda muttered.

Nora shrugged, "Then let them. Who's to say two girls can't hold hands?"

"Um… everyone?"

They continued their stroll down the street, both relishing in the physical contact that was usually so scarce.

The gate to the Robinson's picket fence was broken off at one hinge, Nora noticed. The clean-cut grass was littered with beer bottles and cans -as well as a variety of other things Nora couldn't distinguish.

"I can't believe you made me take off my glasses," Nora said, taking a step back. She blinked a few times, but it was to no avail. Her vision was as blurry as ever.

"Oh hush," Wanda said. "It's only for an hour or so. And besides, you look great without them!"

"Yeah, well I can't- fuck!"

It took them about a minute to get across the lawn, with Nora tripping every few feet or so.

The front door was unlocked, and the two of them stepped inside to see… utter _chaos._

"Fuck yeah! Grad class of 'seventy-two!" A football player yelled before tackling one of his teammates out the living room window.

"Ugh, John. Just back off alright?"

One of Rosie's girls was obviously trying to play 'hard to get'. But she was failing miserably.

"Oh, come on, Mary. What's the harm?"

"Oh, alright," she giggled, taking one of the packets he was doling out.

"Hey, everyone! How fast do you think I can stab this knife through my fingers?!"

"…I think we should go upstairs…"

"…Really? She said that about _her_?"

"…ugh, won't anyone get me a drink?"

"CANNONBALL!" Shouted a _very_ drunk teenager as he attempted to jump into the punch bowl.

"Her parties are't usually this crazy…" Wanda said.

" _This_ is crazy?" Nora chuckled, stepping over an already-passed-out classmate. "If you think this is crazy, you should see an Aztec _quiciñera_." A look akin to horror and awe crossed the brunette's gaze as a beautiful set of French doors were broken down.

"Who pays for all the damage, anyways?"

"No one," Wanda answered. " _She_ just gets Peter to steal all the replacements."

And there she was, surrounded by all her lacks, practically sitting on a throne. Mariana cocktail in one hand, Peter on the other.

 _Poor Peter,_ Nora couldn't help thinking. _He's going to have to clean all of this up -and then some!_

So she decided to save him a bit of trouble.

.

"Fuck yeah! Grad class of 'seventy-two!" Ashton Rickson moved to tackle one of his teammates out of the living room window. But he was stopped by someone in his way.

"Fuck _no_ ," the brunette stated, silencing him with a glowering stare. "You're not even graduating this year, so save the concussion-inducing antics for when you are near a hospital."

.

"Oh come on Mary, you know you want-"

—"Actually, she doesn't. She's only being pressured to act like that by her friends. So why don't you back the fuck back and go throw those drugs down the nearest toilet."

Mary Whittacker stared down in shock as the small girl -who she swore she knew from somewhere- paraded her away from a dismal future.

"Hun, you do _not_ want to go through what those pills would have done to you."

.

"Hey, everyone! Let's see how fast I can stab-"

—"Let's not," Nora said, grabbing the wicked-looking knife from his incapacitated hands.

.

"I think we should go upstairs…"

"How about no? Maybe when you're _both_ ready." Nora glanced pityingly at the nervous-looking guy.

.

"Really? She said _that_ about _her_?"

"Really? Maybe she did and maybe she didn't! But who gives a shit! It's been done before and it will happen again, so get over it!"

.

"Ugh, why won't anyone get me a drink!"

"Here you go!" Nora brandished the cup in the girl's face. "Completely non-alcoholic too! It's even got a nice, little umbrella!"

.

.

The francophone teenager flopped down next to her friend in a dizzied daze. It had been twenty minutes of strange encounter after strange encounter. Nora had averted six definite disasters, and four probable ones.

"How long has it been?" She groaned.

Wanda checked her wrist -even though she wasn't wearing a watch. "About three minutes for me? How long for you?"

"Half a goddamn hour.." Nora moved to stand up but was pulled back down by an unseen hand. (AKA: Wanda's semi-discreet telekinesis.)

"Pleeeease," Nora begged. "Can we leave now?"

"Are you kidding?" Wanda adjusted her posture and pulled the brunette up into a sitting position. "The best part's about to start!"

"Hehe," Nora giggled, poking Wanda's nose. "You rhymed!"

"Are you drunk, Anne?"

A dangerous glint crossed her brown eyes. "No. But I am tired."

Much to Wanda's displeasure, Anne left the over-crowded living room to find a safe place to sleep. Time-travel -even the short distances- drained Nora like the flu.

And all the negative energy surrounding her wasn't helping either!

Wanda shrugged, settling back into the couch's leather cushiness. As the other girls' drunkenness reached its peak, so did their attitudes.

 _Let the show begin._

.

.

.

 _One hour, twenty-three minutes later. Time: 11:34._

 _"Hey."_

 _"Hey."_

"Hey."

"Hey-aah!" Peter jumped back as a pale hand latched onto the collar of his jacket.

"What do you want?" Nora groaned. She'd been having such a good sleep too. Of course it had to be _him_ who'd interrupted it.

Peter sat down on the bathroom's closed toilet seat, amused by her current appearance.

The braids in her hair were half undone, and would undoubtedly cause her great pain later on. Her shirt was wrinkled and had a spot of drool on it where she'd been resting her chin. The shirt was made of a thin, black material, and it stretched across her chest in a way that would make anyone stare.

"Are you alright?" Peter asked. He made sure to keep his gaze level with hers.

 _Don't stare at her, don't stare at her, don't stare at- oh to hell with it!_

Bracelets clattering against the tub's porcelain surface, Nora shifted herself into a more comfortable position on the bottom of the rectangular bathtub. "I was fine," she grumbled. "Until you woke me up."

Peter sighed, eyes rolling around to the bathroom's garish purple-and-orange colouring. "Well sor-ry for trying to be nice!"

"My knight in shining armour," Nora scoffed.

"You know, there are better places to sleep," he said. "And at least one or two people come in here to throw up per party."

"I feel safe in here," Nora confessed.

"In the bathroom?"

"No, in the bathtub, you idiot."

"Right," he quipped, shaking his head. " _I'm_ the idiot."

"Oh, fuck you."

"You've got quite the mouth, you know that right?"

"Damn right," Nora murmured, head sliding down to rest on the lip of the tub. "Though Will probably wouldn't agree with that."

"Will?" Peter questioned, voice raising slightly. "Who's Will? Do I know him? Does he go to our school?"

Nora laughed quietly and sat up from her spot in the tub. "No, you most certainly _do not_ know William Shakespeare."

"You know Shakespeare?!"

"Yes, well…" She frowned. "I did. He's dead now. In this timeline, at least…"

"Timeline?"

Nora waved Peter off, "Yeah, timelines… It's this theory.. thing I'm accumulating about… stuff."

"Huh."

Nora braced her hands on the bathtub's edge, and lifted her body up and through her outstretched arms so that she was standing on the tile floor.

Due to the absence of her glasses, Peter was the only one to notice how close they now were.

"Cool party trick."

"Learned it from the Greeks," Nora concluded.

"Oh, but of course."

"They were a very flexible bunch of people… flexible, and oily!"

"You're not all there, are you?"

"All there? By that do you mean crazy? Well I suppose it's partly true… time-travelling does do a number on one's head!" She laughed, then suddenly went very quiet. "I suppose I _am_ slightly crazy… but then if I _know_ I'm crazy, does that mean I'm sane? It's a funny concept, you know… Well I don't! -Know if I'm sane, that is."

"I think that's the most you've ever said to me," Peter said.

"Well there was that one time in the Mess Hall when I kicked your ass in front of _everyone_."

Peter rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, "Right… that."

"Do I owe you an apology for that?"

"No… I really deserved it at the time."

"True." Nora was silent for a moment, then said, "Well, I guess I'd better head downstairs… Don't want your crazy bitch of a- aah! Mother-"

Nora was, of course, "illegally blind" if you will. So the shag carpet in her path did the girl no favours.

Luckily for her, she was falling next to a guy who could move faster than a speeding bullet.

"Whoa there," Peter said, hands on her waist as him and Nora were caught in an almost tango-like dip. "Don't want any bashed-in noses today."

"Has that happened before?" She murmured, finding herself staring into the grey pools of wonder that were his eyes.

"You'd be surprised," he said.

"Probably not," she responded.

It had lasted only a few seconds, but the moment was over. Peter set Nora back on her feet, (away from any rogue shag carpets) his hand lingering a little longer than necessary. Surprisingly enough, she found herself not minding it.

They both took a step back, the two of them both brushing invisible crumbs off of their clothes.

"Thanks," she said, fighting the urge to blush.

"No problem," he responded.

.

The two teens discretely slipped back into the crowds of the party downstairs. But both were drawn out to the lawn where there was some kind of competition taking place.

"What's going on?" Nora asked to no one in particular.

She was nearly tackled to the ground as someone jumped in her path.

"It's a shot-gun-off!" The stranger cried. "First one through five cans wins!"

Eyes widening, Nora pushed her way to the centre of the circle. _I swear Wanda, if you're doing this again-_ "Goddamn it."

Recalling a few particular moments from her friend's memories, Nora was unsurprised to see Wanda sucking beer out from a can.

Yes, sucking. Not drinking.

One "shot-guns" a beer by slicing (or poking) an incision through the side of the can, and then sucks out all that remains inside.

It's supposed to get you drunk faster. Which is apparently a good thing?

"Graaaaaahhh!" Wanda slammed down the final can, making a roar akin to that of a lion. (One who was going through puberty.)

 _And thus the champion reigns,_ Nora thought.

People, most of which who would've never even _looked_ at Wanda on a regular school day, clapped her on the back, congratulating her on the victory.

The crow eventually died down, and Nora was able to reach her friend. Wanda was drunker than a skunk, which was really a silly phrase since skunks aren't drunk.

"Alright, you," she said, dragging her over onto the grass. "Let's just sit down here."

There was no way she was taking Wanda home in this state.

Nora paused time -holding onto Wanda to keep her in the loop- and waited there for a few hours.

In that time, Wanda threw up -twice- and said a _lot_ of confusing things.

"Yooooouuu'rrre soooo preeetty," she gurgled, bopping Nora on the nose.

Weirded-out, but reminding herself that her friend was under the influence, Nora kept a sturdy grip on Wanda's wrist as they rolled around the lawn.

"But you'll neeever love meee," Wanda cried, falling back onto the grass.

"That's not true," Nora said, pulling her hair back as she retched once more. "I'll always care for you."

"But not in the way I do."

Nora felt sad that it had taken five cans of beer for Wanda to open up to her like this.

"And you led me on tooooo," Wanda continued.

"What?"

"When we first met… I thought- I thought you were like me.."

Shocked, Nora took Wanda's hand in hers, only to find it ripped away.

"I'm fine with you just being my friend," Wanda said. "But then _he_ had to come in the picture."

"Who?"

"You know who…"

"You mean Peter?" Nora asked.

"Yes! My own _brother!_ And even if you don't feel that way, I've seen how he looks at you…"

Nora was silent.

"Since the day you first met. Since.. that day when you show him up in the Caf… Something's changed about him."

Seeing that her friend wasn't going to get any more sober, Nora walked her home.

They walked -or rather, Nora dragged Wanda across the Maximoff threshold at 12:09 AM; nine minutes past her curfew.

Nora had unpaused time when they were a block away from the house, in hopes of to make things believable.

She put Wanda to bed, tucking her in the recovery position -just to be safe.

She would check on her bright and early the next morning, and would probably have to assist with Wanda's imminent hangover.

Quietly closing the front door before placing the spare key between two rocks, Nora sighed in relief.

 _The things we do for friendship._

 _Not to mention the things you lie about,_ another part of her said.

She was about to leave, but stopped when she saw Peter walking up the path.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey, yourself."

"How'd you get home so fast? The party ended, like, ten minutes ago."

"Really?" Nora raised an eyebrow. "I can pause time, remember?"

"Oh, right… that." He paused, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Anne."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," he repeated. "For bringing Wanda home. I don't want to know what it would do to Mom if there was another incident. -You know about that, right? Since you apparently have all of our memories."

Nora nodded, "It was no trouble. She's my friend. That's what friends do."

"Yes, but not terrible siblings like me."

She shrugged, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

"You think I'm going to hell?" Peter laughed.

Nora shook her head, "I'm not one for believing in stuff like that."

They made their way around each other, and Nora had just gotten to the sidewalk when she felt a gust of wind. Then, something was draped across her shoulders.

"I don't know if you're still affected by the weather when the time's stopped," Peter remarked. "But either way, it's gettin' chilly out."

He gave her a little wave, then went into the house.

Nora had to admit, even when she'd been surrounded by such idiotic people (excluding the twins, for the most part) she had enjoyed herself.

.

.

.

 _Outskirts of Silver Spring, 12:37 AM._

Delores Gotye staggered down the concrete surface of Highway Ninety-Seven, beer bottle in one hand, slinky heels in the other.

Her outfit was overdone to the point of trashy, and her makeup was streaked down her face due to the tears.

"Stupid… Rosie…" She slurred, taking another swig from the near-empty bottle. "Always… puttin' me.. down…"

She was so drunk, the bright glare of the headlights didn't register in her eyes.

.

.

.

 **A/N: Thoughts?**


	18. Chapter 16Chapter18

**Guess who's back?! Though, judging by what story you just clicked, I'm guessing you already know… I am rested and have returned completely un-tanned from Hawaii, (success!) and now it is time to return to my wonderful people. (Can I call ya'll that? Is it to soon?) Anyways, thank you to all those who favourited/followed/reviewed! I hope this chapter will somewhat-make-up for the absence last week!**

anonymouscsifan: **Wow. Just to let you know I got all of your reviews :p It was a little confusing at first, but pleasing nonetheless. Thank you for pointing out that little slip-up, I went back and fixed it :)**

Kimmy: **I'm glad you love it! :)**

Guest (1): **Thank you, and I will try to keep up my 'good work' XD**

Guest (2): **You really think this is one of the best?! Ahhhh! This makes me so happy! :D**

Patty: **Thank you, I hope it continues to hold up :)**

 **Now, not all of these may have shown up on the 'review feed'** **just yet. But I got email notifications for them, and so... yeah.**

 **But enough talk! And, also: I don't own X-Men.**

Chapter 16/Chapter 18

 _April 10th, 1972. Maple Grove High School._

Nora knew something was up the moment she walked through the front double doors.

Everyone just seemed… off.

The students were all gathered in small groups, whispering quietly to each other -completely opposite to the usual ruckus chatter that there was before the bell.

Mrs. English -the often overly-flamboyant art teacher- crept out of the smoke-filled staff room, obviously trying to avoid any student encounters.

Despite her efforts, she was cornered by a trio of ninth-graders -all of whom looked to have been crying.

Even Coach Kessler didn't seem to have the strength to reprimand the stragglers roaming the halls after the late bell.

Anne's first class was Art, and Mrs. English didn't even show up until twenty minutes after the bell rang. By then, most everyone had skipped -and Nora still had no idea what was going on.

.

Wanda found her during the break between first and second block.

As she wove through the masses of students -though she was moving much faster than everyone else- Nora suddenly found herself pulled to one side of the hallway.

"Come with me," Wanda hissed.

Maple Grove's band room -as well as much of the rest of the school- was a sorry sight.

The piano had three keys missing, and the wood was in well need of a varnish. There were definitely not enough music stands -or instruments, for that matter. There was only two windows in the room, -both grimy and grey-looking- and the lights tended to flicker now and then. The whole room was poorly-lit and smelled like salt and BO. _Not_ an ideal place for learning.

The walls were covered in photographs of the previous classes, but there was a gap between 1961 and 1963.

"They put the class on hold during all that Cuban-Missile-Crisis shit," Wanda stated.

"Never mind that!" Nora cried. "What's going on with everyone?! They're all acting like ghosts!"

Wanda took a deep breath, "Delores is dead, Anne."

It was as if their roles were switched -or their true colours were being shown. Instead, Wanda was the calm and collected one, while Nora seemed to be having a hysterical moment.

"What? Dead? What do you mean she's dead?!"

"I mean she's _dead_. Dead as in no longer with us. Dead as in passed on. Dead as in hit by a car, and found in a ditch yesterday morning."

Nora sank to the ground. It was happening all over again. Her curse. Someone else was dead.

"Hey, hey, hey: are you alright?" Wanda knelt down next to her friend's trembling form.

Nora shook her head, numb from the shock. Delores. _Dead._ Hit by a car -which was quite a painful way to go.

But she could have done something. If only she hadn't travelled over the weekend. If only she had found out in time.

"It's too late," she muttered, clutching the sides of her head."Too late, too late. _Toujours trop tard!"_

And thus, Wanda was introduced to the slightly _broken_ side of her friend.

It took nearly twenty minutes of hair-stroking, hand-clasping, and attempted-shushing-in-french before Nora was able to stand up again -and speak in English.

By that time, they were already late for science. Wanda offered to walk her home, but Nora blatantly refused, saying that she was fine.

Wanda knew she was lying, but let her be nonetheless. It wasn't the smartest move she'd ever made -with Nora having lost nearly a sixth of her mind over the years- but it's not as if anyone could tell with her putting up an excellent "quiet-wallflower" facade.

Wanda went to their second class, only to be bored out of her mind by the teacher's droning voice. (And today, she had none of Anne's strangely-assorted talents to entertain her.)

Nora, on the other hand, wandered the halls -having put a time-stop in effect.

Outside of her preppy, party-girl-sidekick lifestyle, Delores apparently had had friends in a couple of the younger grades. She had been a good influence on the eighth and ninth graders over the years, and had actively guided them in all the _opposite_ directions her and Rosie had gone.

Her death, though small and insignificant in the big scheme of things, impacted the students of Maple Grove heavily.

Nora knew it wasn't her fault. After all, the only connection she'd had was that she'd been at the same party as Delores on the night of her death.

But she still felt guilty. Guilty because she could have saved her. If only she had found out sooner…

Nora had travelled over the weekend. The morning after the party -just when she'd been about to go and check on Wanda- she'd been spirited away to some corn field in the middle of who-knows-where.

The thing with people, that was when they thought of time-travel, they tended to only think of going back and talking to famous people before they died.

That _did_ happen to Nora from time to time. But sometimes the places she went to were nice and peaceful. But that usually meant that something bad was happening back in her present.

Coming upon the girl's washroom on the second floor (the nicest Maple Grove had to offer) Nora decided she would wash up a bit before going to class.

But as soon as she entered the four-stall washroom (with only two of the doors having the capability to be locked) she knew she was not alone.

Someone was crying in one of the stalls. Nora shuffled forward silently and rapped on the door three times.

"Go away!" Came the bleary response.

Nora started; she knew that voice: it was Rosie!

She couldn't imagine how Rosie was feeling right now. Nora was sure she would be sad, but they had not got along entirely well. Thus, was the case in all of Rosie's 'friendships'.

She opened the door and sure enough, the blonde was sitting on the closed toilet seat, knees drawn up to her chest, cigarette in hand.

"What do you want?" She muttered. "Here to laugh at me too?"

"Why would I laugh at you?" Nora sat down on the floor, looking up at her would-be enemy.

Rosie laughed and glanced at the ceiling, "Haven't you heard? I'm a mess." She gestured to nowhere in particular, "Everything's been falling apart lately… My grades… parents… and now…" She let out a small sob, unable to finish the sentence.

"Delores," Nora finished.

Wiping away tears from her already mascara-stained face, Rosie nodded.

"There's nothing you could've done," Nora consoled.

"But there was!" Rosie cried, taking a drag from her cigarette.

 _Wait, what?_ Nora didn't know anything about this.

"At the party; the night she disappeared… We had a fight."

Oh, of course they did. They were always fighting.

"About what?"

"Oh, nothing worth talking about… just some stupid stuff…"

Nora nodded, it was common knowledge that Rosie's group of friends shifted on an almost monthly basis. Over the years, Delores had been the only one to stick with her -despite their frequent arguments.

"She must have left sometime after our fight… I was so pissed at her; and I wasn't paying attention at all! I _know_ she can't hold her alcohol! What was I thinking?!"

Rosie had used the present-tense. Nora knew how hard it was to adjust out of that habit.

"You were thinking nothing, apparently." Nora patted Rosie's bare knee with her gloved hand, taking note of her unusually conservative attire. (Her black shorts _actually_ reached her _mid-thigh_!)

"And I was such a bitch to her!"

"Yes, you can be quite bitchy to people sometimes, you know?"

Rosie looked up from her knees and grumbled, "I thought you were supposed to be comforting me."

"Comforting you?!" Nora scoffed. "Who said anything about that? If you want consolation, go to a grief counsellor -because I'm not one!" (Though she technically had the memory-obtained training.)

But Rosie's continued whimper-crying _did_ cause a twinge of sympathy in Nora's heavily guarded heart. She did know how the bitch was feeling -to some extent.

"There, there," she said hesitantly, awkwardly patting the blond's knee. "It's alright."

"No it's not!"

Nora sighed, "You're right. I suppose it won't be alright -at least for a while. If your friendship towards Delores was true in _any_ way, you'll probably be depressed as hell. I'd give it at least six weeks treatment by a _professional_ grief counsellor -at the minimum."

"I thought you weren't comforting me," Rosie sniffled.

"Oh, I'm not!" Nora held her hands up. "But I've had my fair share of grief thrust upon me to know a thing or two. -And lord knows, the worst thing to do is bottle it up."

"Okay," Rosie nodded. "Thank you," she paused. "May I ask why you're being so nice to me all of a sudden?"

Nora shrugged, "You've never been anything but civil to me -even if it was once in an attempt to steer me away from a possible friendship."

"Oh… right. Well, is there anything I can do to thank you?"

"No, I don't think-" Nora stopped, mid-sentence. She had _Rosie Robinson_ in the palm of her hand right now; offering _her_ a _favour._ Wanda would kill to be in her position right now.

But she wasn't Wanda. Come to think of it, Wanda would've walked right out of the bathroom if she saw that Rosie was in here.

Nora might be (sometimes) bitchier than her black-haired friend, but she had no personal reasons to hold a grudge in this circumstance. Life was too short for that.

"You could maybe try being nicer to people."

Rosie's head jerked up. "What?"

"If there's anything you can do to thank me: you could start with being less of a judgmental bitch to everyone around you. Or, maybe, just start with being less mean; that way, it won't seem to suspicious…"

Confused, Rosie stared at Anne. Did she really suggest what she thought she just did?

"It's just a thought!" Nora held her hands up.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously!" Nora got up and plucked the smoke out of Rosie's hand. "And stop smoking too, goddamn it! Those things make your lungs more radioactive than Hiroshima!"

Rosie laughed, "Just for that jibe, I'll do what you asked." She paused, "But being a bitch is so much more fun…"

"That was a joke," she confirmed, noticing Nora's condescending stare.

"I know," Nora grimaced. "But it'll help you in the long run."

Rosie got up and dusted herself off, her eyes ran Nora up and down, settling on her messenger bag. She frowned.

 _What was_ that _doing there? Why would she have_ that?

"What is it?" Nora asked.

"You have his jacket."

 _Oh. Shit._ She'd forgotten about that. Nora slowly tucked the rogue sleeve back out of sight.

Nora had planned on giving it back to Peter today. But maybe that wasn't such a good idea, with this being a public place and all...

"I'm not mad," Rosie said cooly. "Just know that it started out the same with me."

.

.

 **Thoughts?**


	19. Chapter 17Chapter19

**A/N: So I can say with complete certainty that this is a very long (for me) and rather important chapter. And I'm really excited for you guys to read it ;) Thank you to all those who favourited/followed/reviewed the last chapter :)**

Guest: **Haha XD I don't think Rosie and Nora will be getting** _ **that**_ **friendly quite so soon..** **B** **ut it's an interesting thought…**

anonymouscsifan: **Yes. I can say that Rosie's 'transition' will most definitely will be paced, and rather subtle. People like her don't get off that easy. Thank you for reviewing :D**

Chapter 17/Chapter 19

Death seemed to affect Silver Spring like the plague.

Sure, people died all the time. But they usually weren't teenage do-gooders (were hard enough to find as it was) that were hit by the car belonging to the chief of police.

Yep. It was Rosie's father who'd been the driver to run over his daughter's longest-standing friend. (An investigation was going on as to whether he _too_ had been under the influence.)

"Well, I guess she isn't standing any longer," Ashton Rickson had said. (Jokingly, of course.)

He later found his prized soccer gear ripped to shreds, and his new car was discovered in a nearby lake.

To this day, it remains unknown whether Peter and Nora did these acts in sync or of their own accord.

Though obviously not all 40,000 residents had been aware of the deceased's existence. They were made aware of Delores Gotye through the many candlelight vigils, and the tear-filled closed-casket service.

.

.

.

 _April 29th, 1972. 2:57 PM._

"Watch out!"

"Ahhh!" Nora squealed as Peter barrelled into her, nearly knocking them onto the cold, icy surface of the skating rink.

That was odd, she never squealed.

"Ahh! Crap! Motherfu- why did I ever agree to this?!" Peter cried as he continued to slip and slide around in dizzying circles.

"Out of everything we've done… I never thought that some ice and a pair of skates would be the mighty _Quicksilver's_ downfall." Nora giggled, referring to the superhero name that Peter often shouted when chasing Brygit around the house.

"True," Wanda said, nervously eyeing the area where Peter had come _this_ close to face-planting into Anne's chest. "Balance seems to be more important that speed when you're on ice."

Peter's feet moved at an inhuman speed, but he remained in the same spot. The only thing that seemed to help him regain his footing was the push-bar Brygit brought to him.

Despite the twins' misgivings, Brygit and Nora's rule had prevailed and they had spent an hour in the dusty attic, looking for a pair of ice-skates.

The bored-looking man said nothing as they paid the two-dollar entry fee.

They were the only ones at the rink. It brought a strange sense of peace to Nora when alone with a few decent people.

"Are you _sure_ there's nothing you can do?" Wanda asked as they made their nineteenth lap.

Nora shook her head numbly. "The farthest I can _control_ going back is twenty-four hours. By the time you told me, it was already too late."

"Yeah, but can't you go back to yesterday, then from there back to the day before? I mean, it would take while, but-"

"I'm not bringing her back! Can't you see that Wanda!" Nora tugged the folds of her sweater closer around her shoulders. "What's done is done! I can't change anything now, it would screw with this timeline too much!"

"-But can't you just-"

"No. Whatever you suggest. I can't do it. And why do you want her to be alive so bad, anyways? She's just one person, Wanda. One, insignificant person that would've probably done shit with her life-"

"Whadda you mean insignifi-"

"-You weren't even close to her. So why-"a

"Because I want things to be back to normal," Wanda muttered.

"What?"

Wanda sighed, "Everything's been so _quiet_ since she died. It's like the whole town's depressed or somethin'! You know, I bumped into Rosie the other day -and she didn't say anything!"

"That is rather odd," Nora said.

"And you know what else is 'odd'?" Wanda laughed, " _You_ a _teenager_ in the twentieth century, saying _odd._ You're not even English!"

Nora frowned mockingly, "That is a racial stereotype, and I will write you up for it!"

"Seriously?" Wanda shrieked as Nora playfully shoved her so that she slid away. " _That's_ your attempt at a joke?!"

Wanda grabbed a fistful of ice-snow and threw it at Anne.

"Ahh!" The impact made the brunette spin around, desperately trying to rid her hair of the cold substance.

She retaliated by shoving as much of the grimy, half-melted ice down Wanda's neck. She screamed bloody murder at this, and did a deformed version of the twist.

"You bitch!" She laughed as her and Anne collided.

They laughed and giggled, all the while trying to pull each other down.

But then Peter had to go and ruin everything.

"Watch out!" He yelled as he bowled into the two girls, ungracefully falling on top of Nora.

 _OOMPH._ In one breath-taking second, all the air left Nora's chest as Peter (accidentally) tackled her to the cold, icy ground.

Wanda was up in a second, brushing off her pants without a care in the world.

But it was Nora who found Peter's had directly placed on her breasts.

"I- I'm so- so sorry," he stammered, noticing the blank stare she was giving him. "It- it was a accident… Anne?"

It only took a second for her defensive mechanisms to kick it.

She let loose a primal scream that hadn't been heard for at least six centuries, and kick her feet out in a way that would've made any boxer frightened.

Nora may have been able to remember everything she ever learned. But it was at times like this that she forgot to remember the simplest things.

Like the fact that she was wearing _ice-skates._

There was a sickening _slice_ and Peter made a sort of whimpering noise as he rolled off of Nora.

It all happened so fast. One moment, Peter was fine, (albeit in a compromising position) but the next he was shaking out of control, half his body's blood's worth spilling out of a gash on his chest.

It was everywhere. Peter; Nora. The ice was stained red.

The entire mood of their afternoon had shifted in a matter of seconds. Wanda was screaming; Brygit crying.

Nora slid forward and felt for a pulse.

Fingers on either side of his jugular, Nora found a heartbeat. But it was too fast, even for Peter.

Nora's eyes flickered from Peter's dilated pupils, then to her own blood-stained hands.

 _"You've been caught red-handed, Miss Green."_

The statement was so absurd. Nora couldn't help it: she burst out laughing.

Hands clutching her sides; rocking back and forth on her knees she laughed harder than she ever had before.

Then she passed out.

.

.

 _(Still) April 29th, 1972. Recreation complex changer. 11:32 PM._

Nora awoke to a dim yellow light, and a buzzing in her ears. She blinked a few times, and found that her brain had collected another person's worth of memories in the past few hours.

"Oh, hey! You're awake!"

Nora sat up blearily on the bench, arching her back and pressing the crown of her head against the brick wall.

As Joseph Regal flashed a light in both of her eyes, she filed said paramedic's memories away.

"You can see out of both eyes, right?"

Nora nodded, noting the fact that Joseph was just a trainee; and that was why he had forgotten part of the 'recently-woken-up-procedure'.

"How is your head feeling? Are you dizzy in any way?"

"I'm fine," Nora said briskly. She stood up -all too quickly as it was, as she slumped back down to the change-room's cold, unwelcoming floor.

"Oh no!" The trainee rushed to check Nora's blood pressure with an arm band, but stopped, confused, when she waved him away.

"That won't be necessary. But, do you have a security blanket, by chance?"

Joseph nodded slowly, retrieving the safety object from the medical kit. He wrapped it around the brunette's shoulders, apprehensive as to what she would do next. The textbooks hadn't prepared him for anything like this.

"Thank you," Nora murmured, nervously chewing on her fingernails. But she stopped as she realized this was one of Joseph's habits.

He didn't know anything about Peter's condition. He was new on the job -fresh out of school, actually- and had barely instilled enough trust in his co-workers to be trusted with an unconscious patient.

After Nora had fallen unconscious -so went the story- Wanda had wrapped as much cloth as she could spare around Peter's wounds, screaming for help all the while.

The ambulance had arrived exactly four minutes and fifteen seconds later. Wanda hadn't answered any of the questions she'd been asked -instead describing the incident as a freak skating accident. Peter had had been raced to the hospital, and that was all Joseph knew.

Nora had been brought off the ice, and placed in the less-cold but much-smellier change-room. Now, nearly seven hours later, she knew there was only one way it could've ended.

"Hey," she said, holding her hand out to him. "Help me up."

"Are you sure?" He seemed skeptical -and rightly so. Any full-licensed paramedic should know not to let anyone stand up after they'd been unconscious for a quarter of a day.

As soon as Nora had Joseph's wrist in her grasp, she twisted his arm around so he was facing away from her. Then, with a sharp jab from her knee to his, she had him pinned to the ground.

"Ahh! What the hell!?"

His head was in-between her knees, and her first thought was to snap his neck. There could be no witnesses. She readjusted her knees around his jaw, preparing to twist them sideways.

"You don't need to do that, Nora."

Nora jerked her head upwards, and nearly fainted again from the shock.

Fluffy golden hair; mischievous green eyes. There was no doubt as to who was standing in the doorway. No matter how impossible it actually was.

It was Tom.

He looked exactly as he had on the day she'd lost him. Plain t-shirt, blue jeans. Tattered converse and a jacket emblazoned with his high school's logo.

His school. Never hers. Bridgemont High; Salem; Pronton road; Margaret and Sam. His parents.

His life. The one she'd taken from him.

She'd stolen so much. Not even counting the things she'd actually needed to survive. Or the people who had never realized what was gone. The mental impact of it all was destroying her from the inside out.

Nora released Joseph from her grip. He stumbled out of the room, yelling, "Crazy bitch!"

 _That's right,_ Nora thought. _I'm a crazy bitch._ A crazy bitch who's having hallucinations of her long-dead-not-really-ex-boyfriend.

"Come on," Tom said, taking her hand. "You know what to do."

Somewhere between when he led her out of the change room and when they walked past the front desk, she paused time.

Once they were safely on the road to her house, Nora snapped her fingers once again.

She tugged her hand out of his grip and then stumbled backwards, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"Wha- what's going on?" _This couldn't be happening._ "Why- What- how are you here?" _He couldn't really be here._ "Is this really happening?" _This can't be happening._

Suddenly, he reared back and slapped her across the face -something the _real_ Thomas Greenwell would've _never_ done.

"Of course this isn't _real!"_ He growled. _"I'm_ just a figment of _your_ imagination. _I'm_ dead. You _killed me_ , just like Peter; or don't you remember?"

"No!" She covered her ears. "It was an accident! And Peter's _not_ dead!"

"Oh, please," he scoffed, his face morphing into something much more grotesque. "Stop _lying_ to yourself Nora. You _know_ that many slashes to the chest is a direct ticket into the light -even if you did miss the carotid artery."

His figure changed. Hips becoming wider and more rounded; chest expanding; hair growing until he was no longer a he.

Erin Greyson stood before Nora, face frozen in a shocked expression as a red blotch bloomed over her collarbone.

"Look what you did to me," she whispered. "All I wanted was to help you."

 _No._ She couldn't lose it- not now.

Nora let out a sob-like scream and shoved the Nurse into the path of an oncoming car.

But since Erin was only a hallucination, it was Nora who found herself hurtling directly towards the hood of a 1967 Chevrolet Volkswagen.

Brakes screeched. The driver spun the wheel, turning the car to the left.

.

The impact was sharp and sudden, knocking all the remaining air from Nora's lungs. She flew back a considerable distance, thrown by the force of the crash. Several bones cracked simultaneously, and the skin on the left side of her torso was scraped to shreds.

Doors burst open, and there were heavy footsteps on the pavement.

"Oh shit," came a man's voice, shoes crunching on the broken glass. "How did I- She came out of nowhere!"

"We need to get her to a hospital, Tom!"

 _This is it,_ Nora thought. _I've finally lost my mind. I've finally gone completely and utterly psycho._

Suppressing the urge to laugh at the coincidence of the name, she screamed, letting out all the anger, rage, sadness, and fear she'd been suppressing the last few months. The scream also scared the already-in-shock couple out of their skins.

Then Nora went silent, allowing her broken body to be taken to the hospital.

She didn't know it at the time, but it was the scream that had saved her.

If she hadn't let out at least a bit of the shit that had been consuming her for the past years, she would've gone completely insane right then and there.

But she didn't.

Not yet, that is.

.

.

.

 _April 30th, 1972. 7:14 AM. Silver Spring General Hospital._

Slowly stirring from unconsciousness, Nora squinted her glasses-less eyes in the bright light. Her hearing was muted, except for a sharp beeping and the already-dull electrical hum of the hospital.

Nora blinked a few times, and made a move to sit up.

"Urrrrrraagghhh!" She cried, and flopped back onto the hospital bed in pain.

Nora was in the hospital, that much she knew from Tom Wilkinson, the black man who had brought her here.

Silver Spring General Hospital, the only medical facility for thirty miles in any direction -except for the supermarket's pharmacy.

Everything in the emergency room was stark-white, including her paper hospital gown.

Groaning, Nora checked over injuries. Her face was cut-up in several places, from the smashed windshield. There were two fractured -and one broken- ribs. Her left leg hardley had any skin leftover, and her chest was bandaged up to the point that she could barely think -let alone breathe.

All of this was present, and not to be demeaned by the third-degree concussion that had yet to be diagnosed by the lovely Doctor Gould. (That was really an unfortunate name to have for a doctor…)

Nora shuffled away the medical staff's memories, while propping herself up with a pillow -and not without a great deal of groaning and internal screaming.

She left the IV in -medical systems had advanced in the last ten years, and someone would unfortunately be notified if she took it out.

Nora could also do with the nutrients, seeing that she was barely strong enough to lift both arms -it was a miracle that she was sitting up!

She took in her surroundings. Everything was so white! It was supposed to convey a peaceful, heaven-sent message -which was a lot nicer than the last one she'd been in. Hospitals had really changed in the last decade.

Nora actively tried to avoid hospitals.

There was too much of a need for an identity; too many people asking questions (and giving her unwanted memory injections through "accidental" skin-to-skin contact.)

Head reeling, Nora sat up in the bed. As soon as she took the IV's needle out of her forearm, the steady beeping changed to a singular, endless tone. She cringed, _that's definitely going to attract some attention._

She would have to sneak out; either the window or the door. Then jack a car and get back to the house. Everything would have to go.

It was time to start over.

Nora was just about to pause time when-

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Wanda shut the door behind her, locking it with the flick of a wrist.

Nora took an unsteady step backwards, stuttering out a response. "I- I- I was… I was… going to…"

"I may not be a _complete_ telepath, Anne," Wanda said, trailing a gloved hand across the sterile surface of the bedside table. "But I _am_ able to get impressions from people."

She paused, her dark eyes effectively catching Nora's gaze.

"And as of right now; I'm getting nothing but _lies_ from you."

Wanda's eyes flickered downwards. "You're bleeding," she stated.

Nora could feel her chest wounds opening up again; her bandages soaking up the blood.

She moved a hand behind her back, and tried to snap her fingers.

"Don't!" Wanda cried out, forehead wrinkled. She held her own hand out, fingers splayed.

Nora's arm went numb, and she couldn't move it!

Wanda flexed her telekinetic powers, causing Nora to backhand herself across the face.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, immediately shocked as to what she'd made the brunette do.

Wanda held her arms out at her sides, and Nora's mirrored hers.

"What- what're you doing to me?"

"You were going to leave us, weren't you?" Wanda asked, completely ignoring the question.

"No? What are you talking about?! I wasn't going to leave; not ye-"

As Wanda's power over her broke, Nora clamped a hand over her own mouth.

"Not _yet?!"_ Wanda cried. "Is _that_ what you were going to say?!"

Red electricity crackling around her, Wanda's black hair began to rise off her shoulders. It gave her an erie, banshee-like look.

"I-" Nora began.

"HE'S DEAD, ANNE!" Wanda yelled. She threw her hands to her sides, making the hospital bed and IV stand topple over. "Peter is DEAD! And YOU KILLED HIM!"

Those words hit Nora like a brick wall.

 _You killed him._

 _Killed him._

 _You FUCKING murdered him._

Despite how smart she was, Nora only thought of one course of action.

She took the coward's way out, breaking Wanda's concentration with a shrill whistle, then stopping time in her moment of control.

Barely taking enough time to redress her bandages, Nora made her way to the city streets.

She was trying to unlock a car when her leg gave out.

Time was set back in motion, and Nora collapsed on the concrete, howling in pain.

Of course, to everyone else, a teenager wearing nothing but a bloody hospital gown had just appeared in the middle of the street.

She clenched her eyes shut and paused time again. _It will take too much concentration to drive a car_ and _keep this up,_ she decided. _I'll just have to walk._

She stumbled down the busy side-street, then fell against a lamppost as her powers fluctuated once more.

Time was moving again; and half-a-dozen people were shocked out of their skins at the sight of her appearing just twenty feet from where she'd just been.

Nora barely made it ten more steps before the hospital's front doors blew open.

'Blew' as in _exploded._

She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

Combat boots stomping across the glass-strewn asphalt, Wanda stalked into the street. Cars screeched to a stop, and soon there was a suitable barricade surrounding her.

Hands clenched at her sides; hair floating in an ethereal-halo, her eyes glowed a dangerous red.

Brown met red as the two teens made eye contact.

Screaming civilians scattered as a truck was shoved out of the way by an invisible force.

Wanda held her arm out in front of her at a right angle, and glared directly at the injured brunette.

The lamppost Nora was holding herself up with sparked, then slowly began to fall.

She gathered her strength, and paused time. But only enough for her to get out of the way.

Nora was weak: Wanda knew that much. Even someone with her abilities wouldn't be able to go on for too long with that many critical injuries.

Wanda made the streetlight fall over, but only grew more enraged when Anne appeared beside it, completely unscathed.

She saw red, and sprinted towards Anne, using her telekinesis to propel herself into the air.

The chase was on.

People hurried to get out of the streets, desperate to get out of the mutants' path.

Wanda may have been in better shape, but it was Nora who had outrun a Fijian tribe of cannibals.

And in this case, desperation outweighed vengeance.

Nora's powers flickered in and out of control as she ran, making her appear sporadically across town. (This later became known as the 'teleportation effect.')

The battle ravaged through the streets of Silver Spring. The local authorities first tried stopping the teens' destruction, but soon realized that their efforts would be better use in evacuation.

 _I guess some people's demons are just bigger than others',_ Rosie thought as she watched two of her classmates bring down the old Robertson Theatre.

It was an explosive game of cat and mouse. If the mouse was a vertically-challenged time-traveler, and the cat was a self-proclaimed dyke on a murderous rampage.

Wanda screeched as she sent a blast of hex energy directly at Anne's chest. The brunette dodged the blow, rolling to the side across the debris-stricken road.

Grimacing, Nora clutched her side. She couldn't go on like this for much longer. Sooner or later, Wanda would gain the upper hand. (If she hadn't already!)

Spotting a tow-truck's loose chain, Nora saw her chance.

Nimbly climbing (considering her injuries) up a building's fire escape, she narrowly avoided several more attacks.

She only had seconds, and now her way down had been obliterated to mangled scraps of metal.

Nora didn't give herself to think, and jumped off the roof.

.

 _8:05 AM._

It happened in an instant; without warning.

Wanda couldn't move. Her arms were pinned to her sides and her legs were weighed down by-

"Son of a bitch," she murmured.

"Daughter, actually." Nora took a deep breath, and sat down next to her friend. Spreading her legs out, she expanded her diaphragm with a pained gasp.

"How… Did you…" Wanda struggled against the chain bonds.

"Tow truck drivers actually know a lot more than you'd think. And.. well… you know;" Nora tapped her forehead. "Time-travelling genius an' all."

"I think I sprained my ankle," was all Wanda said.

Nora laughed, "Well, I'm very sorry for your loss."

They both went silent, realizing the grave irony of the statement.

Nora picked at her leg, it had already started to scab over. Feeling her friend shake with each individual sob, she took Wanda's hand and gripped it tightly.

 _You're a coward. A selfish. Cowardly. Bitch._

"You're not a bitch." Wanda lay on her back, pulling Anne down next to her, despite her friend's protests. "You may be cowardly and selfish, but you're not a bad person.

"And I know you didn't mean to kill him."

If she knew that much, what else had Wanda gleaned from Nora's thoughts?

She went with the all-out question, knowing that neither of them would be here for much longer.

"How long have you known?" Nora asked.

"About what?"

"Everything."

"Oh. So does that include your runaway status, lack of social security number -or any legal ID for that matter- and oh: the fact that your parents are _never_ actually in town?"

"Anything else?"

"You lied about everything, didn't you?"

It was a few more seconds before Wanda spoke again. Still, the air was clear of police sirens.

"I wasn't sure -I never am, really. But I always knew you were lying about something. I knew since the day I first met you."

Nora nodded, admiring the clear blue sky on what might've been her last day alive.

"But I didn't call you out on it, you know?"

"You let me keep my secrets."

Wanda buried her head in Anne's collarbone to muffle her crying. Nora awkwardly cradled her arm around her, a million thoughts running through her damaged head.

 _I killed her brother. I killed Peter. Even if it was an accident -he's dead because of me._

She'd never see him again. Never have to spend hours on past and present French verbs. His abnormal hair and eyes… She'd never again get to see the look of pure joy on his face when he made Brygit laugh.

Despite all his flaws, Peter had people who loved him. This, Nora thought, was the farthest reach of human strength.

And she'd taken him away.

 _Forever._

Just like Tom.

Poor Tom. And Erin. And all those in between.

They were gone.

 _Unless…_

"Please," Wanda murmured. "You can change things; you can bring him back… I sense you thinking about it. You- you can go back… there's still time.."

Nora had never done this. _Never._ If she went back for this reason, she'd be breaking her number one rule.

All she could think about was Magda's smile when Peter brought home a B in French; Brygit's squeals of delight when he chased her around the backyard. And Wanda missing him _so much_ that she'd destroyed an entire town just trying to avenge him.

Maybe she could.

Just this once.

 _Oh for fuck's sake._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _April 29th, 1972. Silver Spring Rec. Complex, 2:55 PM._

Ice-skating was not Peter's strong suit. In fact, he actively tried to avoid the sport.

But to his displeasure, he'd been dragged along to the Complex by his sisters.

At least it made Brygit happy. She squealed in delight as he pushed her around, using the support bar as much as a kid would.

There was obviously a large distance between Wanda and Anne's skating abilities. Wanda was able to keep her balance (for the most part) and even do an impromptu spin on occasion.

But Anne held herself with the kind of grace only achieved from years of practice. Or, maybe, a chance encounter with Kenneth Shelley.

The girls seemed to be having a sort of play fight, but Peter didn't notice until it was too late.

He shoved Brygit out of the way as he spiralled out of control, before yelling, "Watch out!"

Peter bowled into his sister and friend, ungracefully falling on top of Anne.

He hadn't meant to. He'd just been trying to brace himself from hurting her anymore. But his hands were right _there._

She was such a tiny person, he practically felt all the air go out of her chest. But that wasn't the worst thing that happened.

She blinked a few times, then her eyes rolled back into her head.

"I- I'm so sorry," he stammered, only now noticing that just the whites of her eyes were showing. "It- it was an- an accident…

"Anne?"

She blinked a few times, pupils returning to their rightful place. Her mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water. Her leg was bent at the knee, said appendage pressed against his hands suddenly held his shoulders in a death grip.

She was back.

Nora carefully untangled herself until she was out from under Peter. Then she sat on the ice.

Nothing had happened. None of _that_ had happened. She was tempted to take off her jacket to see if there were any scars.

But there wouldn't be any. Though the pain was still fresh in her memory, she knew the injuries had healed themselves the moment she'd snapped her fingers.

And Peter. He was here. Safe. Alive.

 _I'm starving,_ she realized. She hadn't eaten in half a day, never mind that lunch been two hours ago.

"Anyone wanna get fries?" (There was a dingy cafeteria next to the front desk.)

"Me! Me!" Brygit cried.

.

.

.

 _Two days later._

Something was different about Anne. That, Peter was sure of. Never mind the fact that she had practically dragged Wanda off of him (as she'd freaked out after he'd fallen on Anne.)

But she seemed completely unfazed by the fact that he'd (accidentally) grabbed her boobs.

Was she asexual? He wasn't sure. But she wasn't a lesbian, that he knew.

This led him to dwell on the fact that if Anne _did_ change something in their timeline, who would know about it?

Just her?

But Anne seemed more wary as of late. Always jumping a bit more than before whenever he appeared around her. (He thought she would've gotten used to it by now.)

It was like she was waiting for something.

And, waiting or not, there's no denying the fact that she went as pale as a ghost after seeing to Monday newspaper headline.

 **ANIMAL SHELTER BURNS DOWN.**

 **CAUSE OF FIRE UNKNOWN.**

 **ONE INNOCENT DEAD.**

.

.

.

 **A/N: A rather major chapter, in my opinion. And a much longer one as well! Please let me know what you think about this development.**


	20. Chapter 18Chapter20

**A/N: Heeello again! People seemed to really like the last chapter, and though _this_ one does explain a few things, it isn't _as_ exciting :) Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourited/followed this story, it all means so much to me. I cannot say that enough XD**

anonymouscsifan: **yeah, Nora did overreact a** _ **bit**_ **when Peter fell on her XD. And I can say that it's because of some of the memories she's gathered over the years. (I'll let you infer as to what was in those memories…) I'm glad that you liked this development, and also: Happy Birthday! :D**

Laura: **Thank you, and I hope it holds up some ;)**

Chapter 18/Chapter 20

 _May 9th, 1972. Maple Grove High School._

The bell rang, and the students scattered. Papers flew everywhere as they ditched their pre-calculus tests. Nora finished the expert doodle of a sixteenth-century Persian scimitar before meticulously gathering her things together.

She smiled apologetically at the teacher -knowing that there were only five minutes before the hellish ninth-graders came in- and placed her B-grade test on the front desk.

"Thank you, Anne," the teacher said.

Nora turned around, careful not to show how startled she really was.

 _She knows my name._ Had she really been here that long? _It hasn't even been four months yet… Would she even make it to the end of the school year?_

Nora tried not to think about that. About leaving.

Students brushed past her as she made her way to her locker. Nora tugged nervously on the folds of her sweater. Even if she _did_ take all the necessary precautions -often wearing gloves to soothe her paranoia- there was still the possibility of contact.

People brushed past her. Everyone was always in such a rush. They never cared about the journey; just that they got to their destination.

The moment she reached her locker, Nora flattened herself against it. Turning her back to the masses of students, she pointedly twisted out the combination.

"Hey there, shortstack."

"Jesus!" She jumped at the sight of the silver-haired mutant.

"What? Where?!" Peter looked around in mock amazement. "I don't see our dear lord and savior- owww!"

He rubbed his (now) sore arm, where she'd punched him.

Don't make fun of other people's religions," Nora ordered, shrugging on her bag. "It's rude."

"I didn't know you were religious," Peter said as they traversed the quickly-emptying halls. "And besides, you were the one who said his name 'in vain'. Isn't that a sin in the ten orders, or something? I'm not sure, Abigail's the only religious person I know -or knew, for that matter." Nora sighed, unsure of where this was going. "-Though I suppose you know about her… Having got all my memories and all that… By the way: if you took -or would it be considered borrowed- or stealing? Anyways, since you have _all_ my memories, would you happen to know the size of my-"

"Do you want me to punch you again?"

Peter stopped talking and shrunk inwards slightly, wary of the brunette's wrath.

Noting his abrupt silence, Nora groaned.

"Alright; first off: I'm not religious. Never have been, never will be." She'd given up on hoping for stuff like that long ago. "Second, it's the _ten commandments._ And I have no idea how you confused that with _orders."_ She did have an idea. And it had to do with sex. (Despite her Christian upbringing, Abigail had quite the kinky taste in the bedroom.) "And thirdly: I don't _take_ your memories, alright? You still have them, correct?"

Peter nodded.

"Though I suppose I _do_ take them… It's more of a transfer… In which two people then have the memories of the original supplier."

"I lost you at the ten commandments."

Nora sighed, "Fair enough."

Somehow, whenever they hung out, Nora's lateness seemed to rub off on Peter. So by the time they had reached the door of her next class, the bell had already rung.

"Where's Wanda, by the way?" Nora asked, pushing back of piece of curly brown hair.

"She's at home," Peter explained. "Having one of her reality-altering headaches."

Much like Nora's time-travelling, Wanda's 'attacks' came in an annoying and unexpected fashion.

Nora ran a hand through her hair again -it just wouldn't stay put!

Suddenly, her textbooks fell to the ground.

Falling _through_ her left arm to land in a messy heap.

She quickly discovered why her hair wasn't staying put. It was because her fingers _weren't there._

"Well, shit."

It hadn't happened in weeks. And now, here it was: happening. At _school._ In public. Where she was stranded.

Nora held up what _should've_ been her hand. Though her and Peter couldn't see it, she could still feel the five digits. (Four, if you didn't count the thumb.)

"I really have no idea…" She muttered. "It happens on and off… But I can't control it -obviously."

"Riiight… Is this the same thing that happened at Wanda's recital?"

"I think so-ooohh shit!"

A group of eighth graders (identifiable by their giggles and overabundance of school supplies) had just turned down the hallway.

And they were headed straight for them.

"We need to hide, now!" Nora cried, talking about her invisible hand.

"You know, I could-" Peter tried suggesting.

"No time! Hide!"

Nora found an unlocked closet, and shoved Peter inside before following him. She shut the door, letting the darkness envelope them.

 _I immediately regret my decision._

There was a broom handle poking into her back, and Nora found herself pressed into Peter's chest. The space was so tight, neither of them could move more than an inch, lest their situation become even more awkward.

 _Why did I do this?_

"I can feel you smirking," she muttered.

He could feel her every breath. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it _was_ strange."How can you _feel_ me smirking?" Peter had to try very hard to contain his laughter.

"Stripper's instinct."

Eyes bulging, Peter clamped a hand over his mouth. But Nora still heard the muffled snorts.

After he stopped laughing, Peter took a long breath before saying, "You know, I could've just ran us out of here."

The realization that the situation she was currently in had the chance of never actually happening would have made Nora face palm. (If she'd been able to move either of her arms.)

"The thought didn't cross my mind."

"Apparently."

This was the closest Peter had ever been to her. He found his heart beating faster than usual. His face heated up, and there was a strange warmth in his chest.

Why was this happening? And why couldn't he control it?

After another minute of waiting in a humiliating silence, Nora and Peter untangled their limbs and stumbled out of the closet together. Thankfully, the hallway was clear -for now.

"So, what happens now?"

"I need to go home," Nora said. "Sleeping usually gets rid of all…" She waved her now completely invisible arms around, "..this"

"Do you even know what it is?" Peter asked as he followed her down the stairs and out the front entrance.

"I have _no_ idea, now will you _please_ just leave me alone! I can walk on my own- ahh shit!"

It was as if the universe _wanted_ her to be humiliated! All of its karma was certainly a bitch, planting a puddle of orange juice directly in her path.

Nora found herself falling again, having slipped due to the puddle. And once again, she was caught by Peter, saving her glasses from a messy, smashed fate.

"Really?" He said, eyebrows raised. "Because if that was't a perfect example of how _not_ to walk, then my mom's a snail."

She was surprised that he'd actually came up with a comeback _that_ intelligent-sounding.

Before she could protest, Peter had hiked Anne's knees up and they were off.

For a second, the world was a messy blur of sounds and colours. Then, everything was back in focus.

Crickets chirruped nervously, scattering as Peter set Nora down.

"Thanks," she said gruffly.

Her left side was fading fast, and soon enough, it looked like a huge chunk had been taken out of her torso.

The funny thing was, she could still feel her invisible body parts, they just weren't there.

She headed up the lawn, tall grasses brushing against her thighs. But when Nora got there, the front door was gone!

She was in a field. Tall yellow stalks of grass, rock formations to her back and-

"What the-" She barely took in her surroundings before she blinked, and the house was back.

There was a static, buzzing sensation clouding her head as Peter cautiously poked her rapidly-fading shoulder. Nora fumbled with the door handle for a second before stumbling inside.

"You don't lock your doors?" Peter paid no attention to her misgivings towards him entering her domain, and followed her inside. "That's dangerous, you know."

Collapsing into an old, yet comfortable-looking armchair, Nora mumbled, "Shut up."

The buzzing got louder. Suddenly, she gasped, and her head lolled back. Her whole body went limp, like a puppet whose strings had been cut loose.

"Anne?"

She was almost completely faded-out by now, Peter realized. He could only see the barest outline of where she'd been.

Anne was completely still, the occasional rise of her near-invisible sweater being the only sign of life.

Peter tried to shake her awake, but there was only a cold spot where her arms should've been. When he drew his hand away, it was all tingly -like pins and needles.

A few minutes passed, and there was still no change.

So, he waited.

.

.

"How long was I out?"

Nora broke apart the chocolate bar, offering half to Peter, who declined.

"Not long; about half an hour?"

Thoughtful, she nodded, nibbling excessively as the chocolate.

"But it was freaky. You disappeared almost entirely." He paused, "Where did you go? If anywhere."

Nora flexed her aching fingers, "I was in Africa."

"What?"

"At least… I think I was. Could've been Australia by the look of the terrain."

"I am so confused right now," Peter said.

"Yeah… I know the feeling."

Nora crumpled the wrapper into a ball before making an expert shot into a trash can across the room.

"I think…" she began. "If I disappeared in _this_ time, then I may have appeared in another one."

"Like astral projection?"

Nora stared up at Peter like he'd just grown a second head on the spot.

"Hey," he said defensively. "I _too_ occasionally pick up a book."

"Apparently." Though she couldn't deny the fact that that was a very _specific_ topic to read about.

Nervous, Nora focused intently on the miniature brads she was making in her hair.

Peter, on the other hand, tapped his crossed legs at a dizzying speed.

"Need any more chocolate?" He offered, "I could run into town and…" His voice trailed off as Nora shook her head.

"I'm fine," she murmured. "But thanks, anyways."

Peter slowly inched towards her, doing a mis-shapen crab-walk until he was stationed directly across from the brunette.

"Well in that case… I suppose I'd better come clean as to the real reason I wanted to talk to you."

Her head jerked up, hands frozen in mid-twist, "What do you mean?"

Peter twiddled his thumbs nervously. "So, every spring, the school Brygit goes to holds this concert/parent-helper appreciation event… It's kind of dumb, but my mom has an extra ticket… "

 _Is he doing what I think he's doing?_

Peter rambled on about the event, choking out the last few words. "And… I was wondering… ifyou'dliketogowithme- I mean us! Me- my family."

 _He's nervous,_ Nora realized. _He's not used to girls being as stand-offish and rude to him as I am… He's afraid of getting rejected._

Despite the disastrous endings of his previous relationships, Nora had a feeling this was different.

He hadn't been as _nearly_ as meek when asking out Abigail or Gloria, and they had practically thrown themselves at him!

But this was different. Nora found herself blushing. No one had ever asked her out before. And with Tom… It had just… happened.

 _But what of Wanda? And your mission? You can't stay in one place for too long..._

After an _agonizing_ silence of her not saying anything, Peter sighed, rejected.

"It's- it's alright if you don't want to go… It's a dumb idea, anyways…"

He got up to leave, but felt a hand on his.

Eyes wide, Nora stammered, "Uhm… when is it? The concert, I mean."

Peter smiled. A real, genuine grin that he was unused to making.

"Friday. You can catch the bus home with Wanda? Mom's makin' chicken, that is, if you want to come for dinner. You don't have to if you don't want to! Mom just found a chicken at the bottom of the freezer and-"

"Peter," Nora held up a hand, silencing him. "Chicken sounds great."

"Uh- okay."

Then he was gone.

Nora waited a full minute, completely silent. When she was sure he wasn't coming back, she jumped up and spontaneously did a series of cartwheels around the room.

Breathing heavily, she flopped onto her bed.

She too, was smiling.


	21. Chapter 19Chapter 21

**A/N: Heelloooo! Anyone see the Doctor Strange trailer? November can't come soon enough… And speaking of movies… X-Men Apocalypse! Gahhh, can't wait for that! Thank you to all who have read/reviewed/favourited/followed. I added 'read' onto that, because it means just as much to me (almost 9000 views?!)**

anonymouscsifan: **Thank you for all your kind thoughts :D I'm happy that you're loving the progression of their relationships. And I wonder how you'll feel about** _ **this**_ **chapter XD**

 **Disclaimer: Although I haven't said it in a while, I still don't own X-Men!**

Chapter 19/Chapter 21

 _May 12th, 1972. Maple Grove High School._

The weather had taken a turn for the worse. Nora had gone back and made sure to bring a rain jacket, because at precisely 1:26 the downpour of a century had began. (Though that was an exaggeration, she'd been in the 'downpour of the century' and it had been much worse than this.)

Wanda hadn't spoken to her all day. Which didn't surprise Nora. She'd probably heard about her and Peter disappearing the other day.

There was no doubt that Wanda's greatest fear was losing yet _another_ friend to her brother. Even if Anne had lasted this long. Wanda still hadn't been too surprised when Peter'd jumped at the chance to ask her out for dinner.

The last straw had been when their Mum pulled out the extra ticket.

Hands gripping either end of her pencil, Wanda strained to keep from snapping it in half. She'd done everything she could to keep Peter away from Anne.

Despite how powerful and chilly her exterior was, Wanda saw a lot of vulnerability behind those brown eyes.

Wanda stared as Anne scribbled down her notes in her elegant, loopy print. She'd brought a rain jacket today, but Wanda didn't know why. The sky was grey, but the forecast was for mild, dry weather.

"Hey," Wanda blinked and saw the brunette staring at her, brows furrowed in curiosity. "You okay? You barely got down half the notes."

"It's nothing." Wanda carelessly twirled her pencil between her fingers. "Chemistry just ain't kickin' it for me today."

"Fair enough." Anne discretely moved Wanda's paper next to hers and began to copy down the intricacies of covalent bonds.

It was at these time, when she was relaxed and thought no one was listening, that Wanda heard a bit of Anne's French accent slip out.

These moments were few and far between, but when they _did_ happen, Wanda felt like she saw a bit more of the _real_ Anne Green.

Two minutes before the bell rang, the class was packed up and waiting impatiently by the door.

As the two girls ate their lunches, facing the long wall of windows opposite their lockers, one was shocked as the heavens seemed to split open, letting a month's worth of drought spill out.

Anne nodded in confirmation, "Right on time."

Wanda shook her head, some things never ceased to amaze.

 _Like how Peter'll never stop chasing skirts._

The day went on, Wanda dreading the 200-foot sprint from school to bus.

But no matter how much she hated it, it had to be done. Within seconds, her corset-style shirt and black flowing skirt were both soaked.

Anne conveniently had a handkerchief for her running eyeliner.

"You could've at least told _me_ it was gonna rain."

"Oh… Sorry."

Anne offered Wanda her rain jacket for the short walk home, but she politely declined.

.

.

.

 _Maximoff Residence._

"I didn't realize you were a professional chef." Nora looked on in confused appreciation at the feast Peter had prepared. (AKA: 'run in' from a Las Vegas hotel.)

Peter scratched the back of his head, "Yeah, well… you know."

"It's nice; I like it." The brunette was blushing.

"Well who the fuck is gonna eat all this?"

The two mutants turned to see Wanda casually slouched against the dining room doorframe. She'd changed into a baggy t-shirt and sweats -obviously not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.

"Well, we were gonna…" Peter gestured to himself and Anne.

"She doesn't even like mashed potatoes."

Noticing how awkward she was making the situation, Wanda sighed and slowly turned around to trudge back up the stairs.

"I'll pick through the leftovers when ya'll're done."

Nora shrugged off her rain jacket as Peter pulled her chair out for her.

Peter suddenly swore under his breath, and zipped away from the table. He reappeared a moment later with two bottles of coke.

"Wanda said it's your favourite."

Nora smiled as he uncapped their drinks. She didn't have the heart to tell him that Wanda had lied. Every time she drank Coca Cola, a patch of hives broke out over her stomach.

The late lunch (or early dinner) was composed of a full-sized Thanksgiving turkey, a variety of steamed vegetables, and Nora's worst enemy.

 _Mashed potatoes._

"So you really don't like 'em," Peter said, eyeing the fluffy white pile that she had pushed to the edge of her plate.

She shook her head, "The texture… I.. just… It disgusts me."

After spending a week in a Medieval castle, scrubbing dishes. Nora had a deep hatred for all edible mushy things.

"Sorry, I didn't know," Peter apologized, a dejected look in his eyes.

Realizing how rude she'd been, Nora took a deep breath and set down her silverware.

"I guess there's a lot of things we don't know about each other."

An uncomfortable silence came over the small, circular dinner table.

Peter made art with his food, while Nora tried to itch her nose as discretely as possible.

"Favourite colour?" The brunette's bowed head jerked up suddenly.

"Wh- what?"

"What is… your favourite colour?" Peter repeated.

No one had ever asked her this before, Nora realized. Recalling insignificant playground arguments over red versus blue that she hadn't been a part of.

It seemed like a silly question. But it was a silly question she had never been asked.

Putting her fork to her lip, Nora said, "Purple… I guess?"

Purple was nice. it was dark, but seemed to have a certain warmth hiding inside.

"Cool."

She thought a moment before returning the favour. "What about you?"

"Blue!" He said it quickly. Peter had been waiting for her to ask him.

"Like the ocean?"

"Like the sky."

"Cool."

The questions then came in an everlasting flurry. Favourite animal; favourite food (and drink); worst (and best) school subjects.

Peter even went so far as to ask Anne about her favourite book (which was sacred ground) when he noticed the time.

"Oh shit! We're gonna be late!"

Nora barely had time to wipe the gravy from her lip before he whisked them away.

.

.

.

Riggs Elementary, which held students from grades kindergarten to five, was bustling with activity. It was so full of children running around in costumes, parents trying to find seats in the nearly-filled auditorium, and teachers trying to chase down said kids that no one noticed two teenagers appearing amongst it all.

A tight -but not commanding- grip on her wrist, Peter pulled Anne through a brood of spring-coloured tulle (worn by some excited-looking second-graders) towards the performance hall.

"Tickets, please?"

Peter stopped in mid-step.

The two mutants stared down at the paint-splattered art table. (Which, today, was doubling as a ticket booth.) Two girls, one wearing a baseball hat, the other in a tie-dye t-shirt, sat by a tin container. They looked as happy as any older sibling that was being forced to come here tonight.

"Tickets," the one with the hat repeated, gaze not leaving Peter's as she popped a large, pink bubble.

Though the baseball hat obscured her eyes, Nora assumed her eyebrows were raised by the smirk on her face.

Peter rifled through his pockets, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

 _I suppose it's my turn to pay,_ Nora thought.

"Peter! Anne! There you are!"

It was Mama Maximoff to the rescue!

Both teens breathed a sigh of relief, as a line was steadily growing behind them.

Tall, blonde, and gracefully swathed in a simple green dress, Magda guided Peter and Nora to their seats.

The second they sat down, the lights dimmed and the audience quieted as two students came onto the stage.

These two were much more enthusiastic than the ones selling tickets, and they delivered a kindly-spirited opening to the Spring Parent-Appreciation concert.

"A lot less religious controversy than the Christmas play," Peter whispered to Anne, referring to the annual PTA debate over 'Santa Claus' versus a Nativity play.

The MC's concluded their introduction, and an older woman hunched over a piano began a jaunty tune. A class of kindergarteners (obvious by their rambunctious attitudes) made their way onto the stage and began to sing.

"Wanda usually helps with the music; playing the piano and such," Peter said. "But she opted out this year."

 _I wonder why,_ he thought sarcastically.

The auditorium walls -which doubled as the gymnasium- were decorated with many different and colourful pieces of artwork. (Each of the collections differing depending on the class.)

As the second song began, Peter noticed how Anne tapped her fingers against her thigh. It wasn't a nervous or agitated kind of tapping, but as the concert went on, he realized she was keeping time with the music.

She seemed to do this unknowingly -like pushing her hair back, or readjusting her glasses.

It was only now that Peter realized how much time he spent thinking about Anne.

Like how she always made snarky comments under her breath about how horrible everyone around her was -and thought that no one heard her.

Or like how she would roll her eyes _so far_ back into her head whenever he got a supposedly simple French question wrong.

How she never seemed to care about what her hair looked like; or about the clothes she wore.

Or how when she thought no one was listening, Anne sometimes let her native French accent shine through her English speech

Anne chuckled softly, and Peter turned his attention from her to the stage.

Brygit was right in her element, wearing the pink tutu, princess tiara, and sparkly butterfly wings.

The second-graders did a horribly-choreographed ballet routine (which looked more like highland dancing.) But it was adorable nonetheless.

Anne giggled as one of the boys tried to spin Brygit around in an attempt at a dramatic finale. Peter couldn't help but smile at the spectacle.

The parents and grandparents around them couldn't help but wonder what the _hell_ a pair of meddling teenagers were doing at a function like this.

.

.

.

 _Forty-five minutes of repressed sexual tension later…_

"Want me to walk you home?"

Nora was startled, but pleased. "Um, sure… I guess."

Peter told his mother that he'd return later; then he, and Anne left. As they left the school grounds, neither of them noticed Magda's apprehensive frown.

Since they were walking at a regular person's pace, it took them almost an hour to get to the four-plex, but Nora found herself enjoying every minute of it.

They talked about the pros and cons of school (Peter obviously mentioning more cons); how long it would take for Nixon to fuck up (Anne thought he would last until the end of his presidential term); and where they thought the world was headed. (Although, Nora had to constantly remind Peter that _no_ she could not travel to the future, because _no_ she still had not told him when she was really from.)

All in all, it turned out to be a rather deep conversation.

Eventually, they reached the ancient picket fence that surrounded Nora's borrowed property. Neither said anything for a while, not wanting to end the time they'd shared with one another.

"So," Peter tried. "Did you like the show?"

Nora blushed (and was completely unsure as to why she did!) "Yeah, it was nice."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"Wanda didn't volunteer this year," Nora said. _Why had she said that?!_

"Yeah… She already has enough hours to graduate."

Both of them knew that wasn't the reason. (And they were in grade eleven, anyways!)

Peter scratched the back of his head. "She likes volunteering for stuff like that -things that involve music, I mean. Music and children, she likes those things." _Jesus Christ that sounded creepy!_

"And girls," Nora said.

Peter started, then remembered that Anne knew. "Yeah…"

"That's cool -that's she's a lesbian, I mean. I'm cool with it." Nora didn't really want to go inside, not just yet.

"That's good. She really values you as a friend." Peter cringed internally at how shrink-like that had sounded.

There was no denying it, the tension between them was becoming unbearable.

"So…" Nora said, but her voice trailed off.

The sun was just beginning to set, spreading the horizon with a mural of pink and orange. A flock of cawing birds suddenly emerged from a nearby tree, startling the teens from each other's gaze.

Peter took a step forward. Nora stood shock still, unsure of what to do. Suddenly becoming very self-conscious, she realized that her hair was an absolute mess! Her jeans were three days unwashed, her shirt was at least two! (Did it smell? She couldn't tell…) And her bag! Don't even get started on that… That thing was as old as she was! How it was still intact, she didn't know.

She felt her heartbeat go up, ten, twenty, faster and faster. Way past the natural rate. She didn't bother trying o slow it down.

The distance between them decreased more and more, and suddenly, they were practically chest to chest. Or in Nora's case: crown of head to shoulder… Damn, she was short.

Trying -and failing- to cease her blush, Nora looked up at the boy towering above her.

 _He really does have beautiful eyes,_ she thought. So grey; grey like a storm. A storm as uncontrollable as him. And his hair! She had the unintelligible urge to run her fingers through his shaggy silver locks.

That's what she liked about Peter. Despite what everyone else thought, he didn't let anyone control him. He made his own path; drew his own fate. He could do something with his life; could emerge in the eyes of everyone else. He was the exact opposite of her: spontaneous, outgoing, lovable.

"Hey shortstack," he whispered, breaking through her thoughts.

She sighed, the breathy noise making Peter want to kiss her even more. "I think I've given up on telling you to stop that."

"Really?" He quirked one eyebrow. "You don't seem like the type to give up so easily."

She frowned, "Who said anything about easy? I've been telling you for the past four months! 'Shortstack' is a derogatory term that degrades vertically-challenged people as myself. We take pride in our height -or lack thereof- and I'll have you know that being short comes with a lot of- mmmffff!" Nora's tirade was silenced as Peter chose that moment to kiss her.

And in that second, all sensible thought flew the coop in Nora's jumbled-up head.

Kissingmekissingmekissingme. Ohmygodhe'skissingme. He tastes nice, but what if I taste bad?! Hair! My hair's a _mess._ Hands, what do I do with my hands. She settled with placing them on his shoulders, and in doing that had to stand on her tiptoes. _And in doing that,_ she unintentionally leaned into the kiss.

Peter hesitantly ran his fingers through Nora's curls, but then pulled her even closer as she went up on her tiptoes.

She tasted like mint, fresh and crisp. She smelled like citrus, and a bit of sweat; Peter loved it.

After another second, they broke apart; gasping for air; flushed red; hair a little messier on Nora's part.

She took a step back.

Idiot.

Fool.

Incompetent promise-breaker. She hated herself for kissing him back; for letting him kiss her. But she couldn't; didn't hate herself for it. Even if she had broken her one rule. That was her one rule: don't make connections.

But she had; and romantic ones were the worst.

But she liked it. She really did.

"I- I should go…" She turned to leave, but then felt a hand hold on to hers.

Peter stared at her imploringly, "Please, don't shut me out."

He was serious. She was afraid. They were complete opposites.

But she liked it. She liked him.

"I…" She took a deep breath. "I like you."

There. She'd said it. Let the choirs of a metaphorical heaven rejoice. Nora felt like a huge weight had been taken off her shoulders. But that a slightly smaller one had replaced it: her promise.

Danielle.

Your sister.

Your _dead_ sister. The one other death you absolutely need to change.

Don't forget about her -you made a _vow_ to change things.

 _I won't,_ she promised internally. _I never will. But I can stay here a little longer. Maybe get their help?_

Excuses, excuses.

"I like you too," Peter said, bringing her back to the present.

He kissed her once more, this time on the forehead.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

She nodded.

Then he was gone, leaving a billowing trail of dust in his wake.

Nora smiled and put a finger to her lips. The distinct taste of Peter still lingered.

She liked him. He liked her.

Nora opened the gate, an unusually chipper skip in her step.

.

.

 **A/N: Anyone catch the not-so-discreet RedVBlue reference? Let me know if** **you** **did XD** __


	22. Chapter 20Chapter 22

**A/N: Well ya'll seemed to like the last chapter ;) I promise some more relationshippy goodness here :D**

anonymouscsifan: **Thank you for all the kind words :) And I'm glad you're understanding where everyone is coming from. Wanda will definitely react strongly to their relationship, and Nora will be telling Peter some things in the future ;) Again, thank you for all your support :D**

Laura: **hahaha, I'm happy that you like it :)**

Stinker126: **Things are explained in future chapters… ;)**

 **Disclaimer: I obviously don't own X-Men. Only Nora and her stupidly-large set of powers.**

Chapter 20/Chapter 22

 _May 20th, 1972. Maximoff Residence._

Was she in love? Nora wasn't sure. She didn't know what 'feeling in love' felt like.

She'd seen all aspects of love. From the ancient Aztec joining rituals, to the arranged marriages that scoured India's youth.

Though Nora could collect the memories and knowledge of other people, she'd always had to infer as to what their true emotions were.

Love, and hatred. Those were two strong feeling that everyone had their own fair share of. People say hate is a strong word. Nora'd had her fair share of hatred doused upon her. And it usually was towards herself.

But she hadn't yet felt _true_ love. Even towards her late sister, Nora had been too young at the time to grasp the concept.

Was this love she was feeling? This incessant fluttering in her stomach… this strange warmth that engulfed her every time Peter was around. Could it be?

"Watch out!"

Hearing Peter's urgent command, Nora snapped her fingers immediately.

She moved the soccer ball out of her (and the window's) trajectory, carefully placing it on the dry grass.

She blinked, and time returned to normal, Nora positioned over her pre-calculus textbook exactly as she'd been.

Peter had been prepared to sweep Anne away from danger, but stopped as he saw that the ball was no longer flying towards her.

"It's over there," she gestured with a number two pencil.

"Ah." He nodded, realizing what she'd done.

Brygit pranced around the backyard. She wore a strange combination of her favourite princess dress and soccer cleats as Peter attempted to teach her how to pass the ball.

He sighed, exasperated. "No Brygit, don't kick it with your toes. Turn your foot sideways like-"

She slammed the front of her cleat into the ball, sending it rocketing into the apple tree.

"Ahh, shit," he cursed under his breath.

 _Well, she's got the strength for it,_ Nora thought.

Brown hair askew in its lopsided ponytail, Brygit made a pouty face, seeing that the ball was stuck.

Peter tried climbing up to get it. He almost made it to the first branch, but only gained a bruised behind.

"Get-up! Get-up!" Brygit chanted.

Nora covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laugh. But she couldn't help giggling as Brygit belly-flopped onto her brother's collapsed form.

Nora stood up and swaggered over, thumbs in her jean pockets. "Having fun yet?"

"Help… me," Peter wheezed through Brygit's giggles.

"If I must," Nora rolled her jeans up to her knees and cracked her knuckles.

Her knees held either side in a death grip as she pulled herself up its gnarled bark. Finding a steady grip around the trunk, she heaved her self up several knots before reaching the first branch.

Nora looked up at the many branches and bumps ahead of her; she calculated the most efficient path. Then scampered up in a matter of seconds.

Her arms were burning -it had been a while since she'd climbed any trees. She tossed the ball down, much to Brygit's delight, and settled into a Y-shaped crook between two large branches.

Fifteen feet below, the youngest Maximoff to date hiked up her skirts, then tried to charge Peter. They played this back-and-forth game of soccer (with Peter always in control) until Magda brought out the lemonade.

"Where's Anne?" She looked around for the brunette. "Did she go home already?"

"No," Brygit said, downing the drink in one gulp. "She's up in the tree!"

Magda frowned at Peter, who looked just as troubled.

"Do you know why she's up there, sweetie?" The question was directed to Peter as much as it was to Brygit.

"She went to get the ball -and it was super cool! She was like some kind of ninja!" Brigitte's speech went completely off track as she continued to ramble on. "Anne is _awesome!_ She isn't afraid of _anything!"_

After his Mom and sibling went inside, Peter decided to find Anne. It had been years since they'd been allowed up there, ever since Wanda'd broken her arm in a bad fall. So he struggled up the tree's ancient trunk.

When he got to where Anne was, Peter saw her staring out to the small forest that bordered their neighbourhood. It was getting late in the day, and the sun was just beginning to set. It lit up her face, accenting every curve and freckle.

She was just so… natural. There wasn't a speck of makeup on her. Her hair was styled, but not to the point of being overdone. She wore a simple pullover and jeans. Anne was the perfect girl next door he'd never had; quiet, smart, beautiful, and quirky in all the right ways.

But still, there was this cloak of mystery surrounding her.

"Hey," he said, breaking her train of thought.

Startled, she looked around, but smiled when she saw who it was.

"Hey yourself." She returned her gaze to the forest.

Her right hand rested freely on the branch, not a care in the world as to how high they were. Noticing her blank and troubled demeanor, Peter took her hand in his and slowly rubbed his thumb across her knuckles.

"What are you doing?" She asked after a minute.

"Comforting you."

"Do I look like I need to be comforted?" It was a sincere question, with not an ounce of cynicism in it.

Peter sighed, "Despite what I act like to most people, I can actually be a _somewhat_ caring person."

"That's not what I meant," Nora murmured, head leaning in his direction.

"Then what _do_ you mean?" He paused to let the question set in.

It took her a moment to answer.

"I- I don't know… I guess I'm just… afraid?"

"Afraid of what?"

What Brygit had said, about her not being afraid of anything. It wasn't true.

Nora raked her free hand through her mass of curls. "Do I really seem so fearless?"

Peter was taken aback by the question, but then he nodded. "From the day I met you, when you first stood up to me in the cafeteria."

"-Even if it was completely unnecessary at the time."

"From that very. First. Day," Peter continued. "You were the strangest, most fearless person I've ever known."

Nora laughed quietly, _and this is only week_ one.

"What are you afraid of?" He repeated, eyes searching hers for the answer.

 _Abandonment,_ said her heart. But "thunderstorms" was what came out.

Both were true, but Nora felt that this conversation had been deep enough for week _one_ of their relationship. (Or whatever the hell this was.)

"Thunder? Really?" Peter fought to keep from sighing in relief. He'd thought it would've been something much worse.

"Why do they scare you?"

Anne threw up her hands, "Well they can't be controlled! Not at least by anyone I've heard of! The thunder and lightning just… happen! And that three-second rule is absolute bullshit!" She paused and her eyes went wide. "And the rain… That endless pitter-patter of drops on the roof and windows… I can't stand that!"

Peter chuckled and patted her knee, "I promise I'll protect you."

Anne raised an eyebrow, "I'm counting on you; my knight in shining armor."

Peter took her hand into his, their hearts beat together, almost in sync.

There weren't any more words to be said.

.

.

.

 _A few days later…_

"Was Anne in any of your classes today?"

Wanda shrugged, "She's _your_ girlfriend."

Distraught, Peter huffed and left the living room.

Anne had skipped out on him for their lunch date in LA. Which was odd, since she was hardly ever sick, and always planned ahead.

Peter opened the fridge, and got himself a soda. The weather was unusually dismal for May. It had begun raining two days ago and hadn't let up for a few hours at a time.

Lightning crackled across the darkened sky, followed by a series of threatening rumbles.

The noise jolted Peter from his thoughts.

Of course! She was afraid of thunderstorms! He hadn't thought much of their conversation last Sunday, and frankly, hadn't thought Anne's fear of thunderstorms would've cause her to stay home from school.

(Very few things prevented her from going to school.)

Wanda walked into the kitchen a few seconds later, only to see a glass bottle spinning precariously where Peter had left it.

.

.

Peter appeared at the edge of Anne's stolen property, He sprinted up to the door and knocked on it.

There was no answer. He waited less than thirty seconds before letting himself in. In this case, her habit of leaving doors unlocked came in handy.

The front door opened into a long, unlit hallway. Multiple staircases and doorways lead off into the separate living areas.

Peter tried the lights in three of the four apartments, but none of them were working.

"Electricity must be out," he muttered.

The case was the same in the fourth apartment. Peter checked he entire place in less than a minute.

He grew frustrated when he came across a locked door, but moved onto the upstairs.

A flash of lightning illuminated his vision for a moment, and Peter saw one more room he had yet to check.

He heard a voice. A girl; singing to herself. He followed the sound of it.

Halfway down the hallway, he recognized the language she was singing in as French.

Thought the closer he got, the less it sounded like singing and more like a series of high-pitched reassurances.

 _"Il ira bien, Nora. Vous allez être bien. Rien ne va vous arriver… le tonnerre ne peut pas nuire toi…"_

"Anne?" Peter whispered, slowly walking towards the wavering sound of her voice. He didn't notice, nor ask, who Nora was. His only concern was her well-being.

She stopped talking as another bought of thunder cascaded upon them.

"Peter?" Her voice was scared and raspy-sounding from talking to herself for all these hours.

"Hey," his image barely moved, and Peter was in the bathroom. "Hey… are you alright?"

The bathtub was a simple porcelain protrusion from the wall, sunk into the ground like a crater.

Anne was curled up at the bottom, spools of yarn cascading from her hands. She was using her fingers to knit; they wove the strings at a dizzying pace.

Peter knelt down beside the tub and put a cautious hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Brown eyes flickered upwards for a moment before returning to her project. "The thunder…" She muttered. "I don't like it…"

"This much?" Peter had no idea… He'd thought it'd been a generic fear. Like spiders… or heights.

"Can't be controlled…" She whispered to herself, fingers coming unlinked as the row was finished. "No.. pattern… Rampant.. disorder…"

"Hey… come on now. It's going to be alright."

Nora only shook her head.

"Yes it is. Listen to me." Peter placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head upwards. "You're going to be fine, Anne. The thunder won't hurt you: I won't let it."

After a moment, she nodded. "Can you stay with me?"

"Of course." He thought she'd never ask.

She moved forwards a bit, and Peter settled in behind her. He pulled Anne towards him; until her back was resting against his chest.

He buried his face in her hair, lips brushing the crown of her head.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning lit up the house once more. Nora whimpered and buried her head in Peter's outstretched ams.

Suddenly, Peter had an idea.

 _How did I not think of this before?_

He drew his headphones from around his neck and placed them over her ears.

Visibly relaxing, Nora settled back and listened to the opening guitar chords of Peter's (currently) favourite song.

"Wait a minute," she said, sitting up straighter. "How the fuck could you 'save time in a bottle'? That doesn't make any sense. Even I can't do that, and-"

"Shhhh; don't talk. Just listen." He kissed her head again, and she settled back into his arms.

In less than a minute, Nora's foot was tapping quietly against the edge of the tub. Peter gingerly readjusted his position.

Soon, they were both asleep.

.

.

 **Thoughts?**


	23. Chapter 21Chapter23

**A/N: Thank you to all who read/reviewed/favourited/followed. I think a certain conversation in this chapter is _quite_ important.**

 **And here's the chapter where I finally get to address the fact that, contrary to popular belief, walkmen weren't available for sale until 1979! So just what was Peter using to listen to his music in DOFP? I found this out from wikipedia (my trusted friend) as well as an article on the web. (If you want to read it just type in 'quicksilver x-men walkman' in Google search, and you should be able to find it from there.)**

anonymouscsifan: **You're right on every point! Though I can't say that Nora and Peter will be the perfect couple when it comes to Wanda… And yes, the last chapter, and a few more to come, I think are all a bit fluffy. But each of them has their own singular importance (ie. in the last one, Nora admitted** _ **some**_ **of her fears ;)**

 **Also: shoutout to BloodyAvenger21 who recommended the song 'Ghost' by Mystery Skulls. The lyrics are surprisingly accurate to Nora's character, and it's something I would recommend listening to while reading this story ;)**

 **Phew… after that _long_ author's note, *ahem* and I don't own X-Men.**

Chapter 21/Chapter 23

 _June 2nd, 1972. Maximoff Residence._

"So what the fuck is this thing, anyways?"

Peter and Anne were sitting on the floor in front of Peter's basement couch. A series of records and study papers were spread out on the carpet surrounding them.

They were _supposed_ to be studying for a French test, but their conversation had taken a one-eighty the moment Peter found out that Anne hadn't heard a stitch of Elton John's _Tumbleweed._

"What the fuck is what?" Peter responded to Anne's question.

"This!?" She brandished the contraption from which the music they were listening to was coming from. "I've never seen anything like it!"

It was like a miniature, portable boombox. He always had it on him, and she'd always been curious as to how a thing like it existed. (She knew that he had stole it, but not how it worked.)

"Oh, this? It's a stereo belt. I stole it from this German guy a while back."

"Andreas Pavel," she murmured.

"Yeah," Peter said, remembering _that_ particular part of her powers. "But hey, shouldn't you know about it already? Since, you know…" He tapped the side of his forehead.

"Well yeah, I was just wondering if there was anything I hadn't picked up. -I can't believe you stole his invention!" She burst out laughing. "The poor man must have taken months to make the damn thing!"

"Well, do you want me to take it back?" Peter asked.

She was a little shocked by his sincerity, but said, "Oh no, it's too late now. We can only hope that he kept the blueprints, and besides, I hear the Japanese are coming up with something similar to it."

Peter stared at her, a look of amazement on his face. _So much knowledge. So many things in that tiny head. How does she do it?_

"Anyways," Nora stood up and brushed off her kakis. "You wanna get ice cream? I'm starved."

"It's not even summer yet!"

"Pssh, it's summer, Peter!" She gestured out the basement window. "Have you seen the weather lately? It's gettin' pretty warm!"

"If I must rise from the coziness of my den," Peter mock-complained in a way that made him sound like he was from the middle ages. "I will do my lady's bidding and fetch her some of the frozen milk."

He disappeared, returning with a milk jug that was completely frozen over.

"You grace." He knelt on one knee, presenting her with the 'gift'.

She snorted. "You really think that's gonna get you anywhere, soldier?"

He pouted, "I was hoping."

After another minute of pleading, Nora was able to get Peter outside.

They strolled past the many shops and stores of main street, arm in arm. The sun's light was beginning to lose some of its crispness, and had started to give off a more humid, summertime glow. Nora personally didn't enjoy the summer too much. It was always so hot; and with her power, she usually ended up boiling alive in her long-sleeves and pants.

"One vanilla please," Anne asked the parkway vendor. As he measured out her scoop, she turned to Peter and asked, "What do you want?"

"I don't know," he glanced over the selection of ice creams nonchalantly. "You pick something out for me."

Anne got their cones, paid the man, and they were on their way.

There weren't too many people in the park. A few folks were walking their way around the pond stationed in the centre. But other than that, Peter and Anne had the playground all to themselves.

The moment she saw them, Anne made a beeline towards the swings. Within a minute, she was pushing herself up and up; higher and higher.

Peter joined her, swinging along with the breeze. They swung back and forth; sometimes in sync, sometimes out.

Everything was going well, until Peter suddenly started to cough.

"What's wrong?!" Nora cried. She jumped off her swing and ran to his side.

His cheeks were tinged pink as he held his throat. Peter shook his head, seemingly unable to speak.

"Oh shit, oh shit; shit, shit, shit. Are you choking?" He nodded.

Nora got behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was just about to preform a series of abdominal thrusts when he gasped out a, "Stop!"

He was laughing now, bent over on one knee. Nora took a step back, confused.

"Oh man," he gasped. "You really went for it," he gasped again, then let out another bought of laughter.

He seemed perfectly fine now, all traces of airway-obstruction gone.

"Whooo!" He took a long, deep breath, leaning back slightly, and turned to face his partner.

Anne stood, arms crossed, hip jutted out to one side.

"What the fuck was that?"

It had been a sad attempt at a prank. He saw that now looking at the concerned expressions on her face.

"It- I.. It was…"

She raised an eyebrow, urging on his explanation.

He shrugged and held out his hands in an attempt at a peaceful gesture. "Eeh?"

"Was that some kind of joke to you?"

"Maybe…?"

She sighed, a wry smile crossing her features. "Well, I can say it was very well orchestrated." The smile turned into a glare. "But don't ever! Do that! Again!" She punctuated each phrase with a sloppy jab to the shoulder.

"Ow, ow! Alright, okay!" Peter laughed and slung an arm around her. "No more choking jump scares."

.

.

.

"Peter," Nora began. "There's something I need to tell you."

They were seated on a large rock that overlooked Silver Spring's Lake Montgomery. (Named after the county it resided in.)

The setting sun's rays traversed the sky, slowly retreating into the west.

Nora sat on the messy outcropping, legs dangling over the edge. Peter was absentmindedly plucking flowers from the fresh soil and arranging them on the ground. Legs crossed, his head jerked to the girl whom he cared so much about.

He was about to make a semi-sarcastic comment, but stopped when he saw how serious she was.

Her hair blew mysteriously in the wind. Eyes steeled, and jaw set; Nora knew now was the time.

"Okay," Peter took her right hand in his. "I'm listening."

The words came out fast and unpredictable. She'd been holding this in for a long time.

"You were born in fifty-five, right?"

Peter nodded, knowing that she'd already known the answer.

"Well, I wasn't." Nora took a deep breath. "I'm- I'm not from… the twentieth century.

"I was born in… roughly..? The 1340's of France." She was doing this. _Now._

"-I'm still French," she added quickly. "That much is true… I just lied about _when_ I'm from." No more holding back. She wasn't going to procrastinate any longer.

This was probably the longest Peter had ever stayed silent.

"My name isn't Anne, either!" She blurted out. "I… It's… Nora."

There. She'd said it.

"I go by Anne because I've been on the run for the past eleven years… ever since I arrived in this century."

Another few seconds and she would have probably exploded from the stress.

Nora tried fixing her hair, but it wasn't messy in any way. She kept her hands busy, waiting for his response.

"So you _can_ travel to the future."

"Yes. But only once so far." _Why wasn't he saying anything_ _else_ _?_ Peter's pro-longed silence was making her nervous, but Nora continued on in her explanation.

"I don't have a last, or a middle name," she continued. "None of us born into the _Banileu_ did. We were orphans, so we had no names."

There. It was done. She had told him the truth. He knew her now. All of her.

Nora stopped mid-internal-celebration. Almost. Almost all of her.

She couldn't tell him about Brooklyn. About who she'd killed.

Nora suddenly burst into tears. And a dumbfounded Peter was there to comfort her.

"I'm so sorry!" She cried. "So sorry… for lying!" _For_ still _lying_ _._

"Shhh, it's okay," he soothed.

"I've hurt… so many people!" _And done worse to so many others._

"That doesn't matter to me. What matter's is you've come clean."

"But it should matter! You shou-"

"-Doesn't. Matter," he but in.

 _How._ _How was she this lucky?_ _How could anyone be this accepting..._

Nora dreaded the day that he would find out about Brooklyn.. If that day ever came.

Something inside her wished that it would.

She didn't deserve someone like him. After everything she'd done, Nora was the last person on Earth who deserved Peter.

"Nora," Peter asked, trying out the new name. "What are you _really_ afraid of?"

She drew her knees up to her chest. "I _am_ afraid of thunder… but something more accurate would probably be… loneliness."

Peter looked at her, "You're afraid of being lonely?" _This was what she had meant to say the other day._

"I guess." Nora crossed her arms over her knees and rested her chin on them. "It sounds silly, I know. But abandonment played a big part in my growing up."

"What? No!" Peter said, surprised. "It's not silly at all!" He wrapped one arm around Nora's shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze.

She leaned into him, then asked a question that had just occurred to her.

"How can you be so calm?"

He made a small 'hmm?' noise at the back of his throat.

"I just told you that everything about me is a lie."

"-Not everything."

"Well- mostly everything." She paused, calculating her next words. "But you took it so… well.."

Peter let out a long breath and repositioned himself on the rock. "Did you ever touch my mom?"

"What?"

"You know: 'absorb all her memories' an' all that."

Nora shook her head wildly. "No; I try to avoid doing that whenever it isn't necessary."

"Well, as you may have noticed. Me and Wanda's Dad isn't around."

Nora didn't want to intrude on this revelation, so she kept her mouth shut.

"She's originally from Poland. And sometime after the War, she met a guy and got knocked up."

 _Oh._ Nora had suspected that Magda was from Europe. But she hadn't dwelled on the fact for too long.

"He left her -of course. So she hopped on a boat to the States."

"So you were born out of wedlock," Nora inferred. That was greatly frowned upon.

Peter nodded. "Ma gave up hope after Brygit's Dad was drafted."

"Is he..?" Nora began, thinking of televised horrors of Vietnam.

"Yeah. Couple of years ago." Peter had liked Jason. He'd been good to them. To his Mother.

"I learned all the stuff about Mom's life before the crossing from an old diary of hers. Found it when I was ten."

Nora cracked a grim smile; _there_ was the Peter she knew.

"There's a lot about me and Wanda's Dad in there too," he continued. "Not his name or anything, she never writes his name. But apparently, a few years ago, he was sent to prison. Killed some important political figure or something."

Nora couldn't imagine how Peter had felt when he'd first found out. His Dad was out there. Somewhere… in prison.

Peter rolled his shoulders around and settled back on track.

"We moved to Silver Spring when Jason was with Mum. Everyone just automatically assumed they were married, so they kept the ruse going."

This was something Peter had never told anyone outside their family. None of his classmate; none of his friends.

"I know that you already know all of this, but-"

"It's okay," she said. "You _telling_ me means a lot."

"And," he added. "My Mom would like that secret to be kept."

"Of course!" Nora was shocked he'd even thought to ask.

He trusted Anne. Or Nora. He trusted her to keep this secret. Like he would keep hers.

It seemed that everyone had their secrets around here, she thought. Some just happened to be bigger than others.

.

.

.

 **Thoughts?**


	24. Chapter 22Chapter 24

**A/N: Wow! People seemed to like the last chapter ;) Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourited/followed. Without you guys, there would be no story :D**

anonymouscsifan: **Hahaha :) Yes, it took a while, but Nora finally came clean (sort of ;) And I want to say that Wanda will be spending some more time with them, but she really isn't the type interested in third-wheeling… So her character will be taking a little step back for the time being…**

 **D** **isclaimer: I obviously don't own X-Men. If I did: Brett Ratner would have never happened.**

 **Warning:** **there is near-sexual content at the end of this chapter. If that's not for you, then feel free to skip it.**

Chapter 22/Chapter 24

 _June 16th, 1972. Maple Grove High School._

The brush skimmed across the canvas, leaving a trail of ocean-blue in its wake. She dipped it in water, then dried it off on a towel. Adding some white, the blue turned into the colour of the sky.

She finished the light blue wash and sat back to stare at her work.

"Ugh," Nora muttered. "Still doesn't look right."

"What doesn't look right?"

"Gaah!" She squeaked and jumped off her stool.

"Oh god," Peter moved to help her, but only succeeded in toppling the cup of water.

The murky liquid spilt all over her painting.

"Anne! -Nora?! Anne?" He still wasn't sure what to call her. "I'm so sorry!"

He got three rolls of paper towel, and the detachable head of a mop. But neither were able to properly clean up the mess.

"Peter."

His body was a blur as he tried to clean up the tinted-blue water.

"Peter.

A whole ten seconds passed with him appearing randomly around the room, head in his hands.

"Peter!"

He stopped, mid-step, and slowly turned towards her.

"Yes?" He whimpered.

"It's fine. Just… stop freaking out, okay? It wasn't working out anyways."

She wasn't freaking out. She didn't even look mad. "What?! Are you kidding me?"

Dumbfounded, he stared intently at the once-perfect gradation of dark blue to crisp white. What had been wrong about it? "It was amazing!"

"It was boring."

He was sure it would've evolved into something more. All of her works turned out great, even if they looked simple in the beginning.

"Can't you just go back and fix it?" He questioned.

She sighed, "What's the point?"

"I promise I'll be careful this time!"

"You won't even _know_ 'this time'."

But Nora wasn't able to avoid Peter's puppy-dog face. He used that _way_ too often. Yet somehow it worked. Every time.

"Oh, alright! If it makes you happy!"

.

.

.

 _Three minutes later. (For Nora.) One minute, forty-five seconds earlier to everyone else._

She was not stick-skinny as many of the other girls tried to be. Instead, Nora let her body behave as it were, knowing that there could be _many_ positive outcomes after puberty.

Peter watched, a fluttering anticipation in his stomach, as she worked on her final project.

She was wearing a pair of beige cargo pants, and a stretchy tank top that clung to her in all the right paces.

The sleeves of her white cardigan were pushed up past her elbows; but since it was such a loose article of clothing, Nora often grew frustrated at how often the sleeves interrupted her work.

Peter had a bushel of lilacs picked fresh from an award-winning garden in North Carolina, and was about to surprise her when he suddenly found himself halfway across the room.

"What..? How?" He hadn't moved!

"Hey." Nora brushed her hands off on her thighs. She was walking back towards him from the sink. But a moment ago she'd been at her easel!

Peter sighed, "How did you know I was out there?"

"Hmmm… Maybe it's because I come from the fuuuuturre," she said, wiggling her fingers mysteriously.

"Huh?"

She waved away his questions, "Doesn't matter, wanna see what I'm working on?"

He moved a stool over to where she was seated and looked at her final project for Art 11.

A psychedelic mix of blood reds and vibrant golds swirled across the canvas like it was the surface of a lake. She seemed oddly pleased with her work so far.

"Cool," he said, scooting closer to her. "What's it gonna be?"

"I'm thinking of doing something with planets, for the third-year anniversary of the moon landings."

"But.. the sky's red," he stated.

"I know!" She giggled, "We have to somehow make it 'creative' so I decided to change the colour of space!"

"That's certainly _out there,"_ Peter joked. He had to take the chance on this pun. There was no leaving _that_ opportunity -even if it cost him later.

She gave him a look that could slay demons. (If they existed in this dimension.)

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized. "It had to be done."

"No. It did not."

They joked around for the remainder of the class, and when it was time to pack up, Nora found that everything had already been done.

"Wha..? How?"

"You're not the fastest person around here, you know." Peter leaned on the edge of one of the raised desks, scratching a piece of dried paint off of one fingernail.

"I never said I was," she retorted playfully.

The bell signaling the end of the period rang, and Nora moved to leave. But Peter grabbed her hand.

"I don't think you want to go to your next class," he said seriously.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"It's school picture day," he stated. Peter raised one eyebrow at her. _Was he having to do_ all _the work here?_

"I think I can handle a few crazy photographers, Peter," Nora smiled evilly and turned on her heel.

.

 _Five minutes later._

"All right everyone! Make your way to the library so your faces can be _immortalized_ in our yearbook archives _forever!"_

 _Oh. Shit._

 _._

"Aaaaaand, we're skipping!" Nora said, grabbing Peter's hand as they ran out the front entrance.

.

It was still early in the morning, so they were able to catch a matinée showing at the movie theatre. Peter got the popcorn while Nora saved them some seats. It was practically empty, since it was a school day. They enjoyed just being next to one another, sitting in the dark.

They went to the park again, this time choosing to feed the ducks. Nora used an ancient hunting method that hadn't been practiced in over 1000 years to gain the water fowl's trust.

Thankfully, they were the only people there. Otherwise, there would have been an audience to see the tiny brunette surrounded by the resident flock of ducks.

How she let them climb all over her _without_ being worried about something growing wrong, Peter had no idea.

They went to a dozen other places that day, but finally, Nora dragged Peter to the local library.

.

.

"It feels like I haven't been here in a lifetime," he said.

"Probably because it _has_ been a lifetime," Nora said, clearly recalling that the last time Peter had been here was, sadly, years ago.

They both stared in a sort of shocked disappointment at the terrible state the library was in.

There was little light, with only ten windows spread across the single-floor vicinity. There were a few mediocre pieces of art strewn about the walls, but all of their frames were dusty and unclean. The bookshelves looked ancient, and as if they could fall over any minute. There _were_ a lot of books, but they were so unkept, Nora had to wipe her hand across one several times before all the dust was suitably removed.

The children's section was border-lining on the precipice of the sketchiest place in town due to its flickering light, peeling wallpaper, and wilted sunflower standing in the corner.

"This is so sad," Nora lamented, trailing one hand across what once may have been a colourful wall mural; but had long-since been abandoned.

"Hey, look," Peter said, trying to lighten the mood. "They have the Narnia books here."

He held out _The Magician's Nephew,_ the first in the high fantasy series.

"Mum used to read these to us when we were kids," he explained, turning the worn paperback over in his hands. "Wanda loved them so much; after I think the _fourth_ time, Mum got tired of it, and made 'er read them herself."

Nora smiled, "I used to read these whenever it was raining outside. It always helped me keep my mind off it." She'd left her full set of the series somewhere back in California. She missed those books.

"Can I kiss you now?" Peter asked suddenly. She was so beautiful. Even amongst the ugliness of the decrepit library.

She looked up at him, "I'd like that."

And so he did.

They stayed like that for nearly a minute, before the disgruntled 'hem hem' of the grey-haired librarian interrupted their embrace.

"Come on," Nora said, leading him out of there. "Let's go somewhere else."

Brygit was at her weekly Girl Guides meeting. Magda was still at work, then would be picking her up after. Wanda wasn't home from school yet, and in fact, had chosen to skip as well.

They had the house to themselves.

Peter's hands were placed on her hips. She wasn't sure what to do with hers, so she settled with resting them on his shoulders.

They broke apart for a moment, and he placed his forehead on hers. He could feel her heartbeat reverberating through this contact, and it made him feel alive.

She blinked, and in that moment he kissed her again. Lips moving down her jaw and throat, Nora made a breathy gasp. His hands inched up her ribcage, until they were just below her breasts.

She brought his mouth to hers again and tugged him back towards the bed, inviting him to move further up.

He squeezed his hands and she smiled; the burning in her core only got hotter.

They disconnected for a moment. They switched places; he sat down on the bed, looking up at her.

She moved down slowly, placing a knee on either side of his lap. He leaned back, and she went with him. Her back arched, hands on either side of his head, she leaned forward and put her lips to his.

They moved around until they were in the middle of the bed. Peter suddenly rolled her over, until he was on top. She giggled, something Nora didn't do often.

Her cardigan was discarded across the room, as his jacket had been five minutes ago. He worked his shirt off, and she did the same.

Nora felt exposed, but not in a bad way. The cool air hit her naked abdomen, sparking a series of goosebumps. Peter raised the covers, and they went under.

He kissed her again, biting down her neck. There would be marks tomorrow, but she didn't car-

Nora was hit with a series of flashbacks. Memories of a terrible event, all experienced in the first person. She hadn't truly been there, but she felt the rough hands scour her body. The lips that whispered horrid promises. The eyes with only one thought in sight.

These things had never really happened to her. But it felt like they had.

She felt it. All of it. As if she had been there in person.

Though in reality, she'd only made contact with a couple of poor, unfortunate souls.

She kicked Peter off of her, reminded of the things _men_ were capable of.

He was pushed to the edge of the bed, and stayed there. Shocked.

Nora too, was stunned. The memories of others' she acquired had never influenced her like that.

 _Why_ now _was this happening?_

"I'm sorry Peter.. I- I didn't mean to…" She saw it in his eyes; he was hurt.

Why she had done this, she didn't know. But Nora couldn't shake the terrible feeling inside of her.

But: this had brought her clarity. She wasn't ready for _this_ step in their relationship.

"I.. I don't think I'm ready for sex.."

"You don't say," Peter tried joking. But when he saw how scared she looked, he stopped.

"Hey, hey; what's wrong? Did I come on too strong? Are you afraid of getting pregnant, because I got protection and all that. Wait- is it that time of the month? I totally get it, if that's what it is. Though, I don't really. Just that there's a lot of-"

Nora shut him up by moving forward and putting her lips to his. She cupped his face in her hands and breathed, "You didn't do anything wrong. You were perfect."

He nodded, face flushed from the sudden action.

They stayed under the covers, not wanting to leave the sanctity of the basement. Peter kept his distance, until she made the move to come closer to him.

They were touching at some point at all times, keeping the other's heartbeat as a measure of security. Then, though it was the middle of the day, they slept.

.

.

.

 **A/N: Soooooooo… that happened? I hope it wasn't** _ **too**_ **terrible. This is as close to smut as I've ever written. And it feels** _ **so**_ **awkward.**

 **Thoughts?**


	25. Chapter 23Chapter 25

**A/N: So... there are descriptions of self-harm in this chapter, if you aren't comfortable with reading that, then just skip to the end.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourited/followed :)**

anonymouscsifan: **I am so excited for Apocalypse, and I** _ **have**_ **seen the Quicksilver commercial. It was pretty funny ;) Thank you for your kind thoughts :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men.**

Chapter 23/Chapter 25

 _June 18th, 1972._

"Holy shit!"

"P- Peter?!" Nora stammered, desperately trying to hide the bloodstained glass. "What're you doing here?"

.

.

.

Nora had been away from school for the past three days. She'd called him just before to say that she was about to travel. He'd appeared a moment after. But only saw the brilliant flash of light from underneath her front door.

She phoned him the moment she returned: asking if there was any important homework due the next day. That was all she said.

Her voice had seemed off, and she'd barely said goodbye before ending the call.

Peter decided to surprise her.. He brought blueberry pie and orange soda, her two favorite foods. (She dismissed all arguments that stated they were not 'proper food.') He'd hoped that they would have been able to spend the afternoon together, just talking about where she'd gone.

But when he got to her house, Peter found something that he would never forget.

She was in the bathroom, back to him. She wore a black short-sleeved t-shirt. The shortest thing he'd seen her wear since Rosie's party.

Then he saw the blood.

.

Her wrist. What had happened. Oh god, she was bleeding. The sink was stained red. He wasn't sure if the cuts were fatal.

Peter ran off, reappearing a minute later with a full ambulance medical kit in tow.

"What the hell happened to you?!" He cried. He sat her down on the closed toilet seat. She tried to push him away, to get out of the bathroom so she could clean up in private. But he was having none of it.

There were tears in her eyes as she saw Peter glance at the vanity counter top; spy the bloodied piece of glass.

He stared back and forth for a few seconds, eyes flickering between the glass and her wrists.

Glass to wrists; glass to wrists; glass to wrists. Then over again. The realization took only a moment, but it seemed like a lifetime.

She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a croak. "Peter… It's not what it looks like-"

"Really? 'Cause I'm pretty sure it is."

Nora clamped a hand over her mouth, but the sob was still heard.

November nineteenth, 1845. Allentown, Pennsylvania. That's where she'd gone. The exact time and place of Tom's death.

After all these months… she'd nearly forgotten about him. The old scars were faded red lines by now.

But then everything had come flooding back. Seeing him, on his deathbed. Surrounded by his family. He had looked happy. He'd made a life in his new time, and was loved by many. But she knew the look in his eyes. He was missing his _real_ family, in his _real_ time.

And she had been the one to take it from him. She had taken it all.

How could she have let herself forget? She was an idiot, letting herself forget the second-biggest mistake of her life. It was all her fault.

Peter said nothing as he stuck a variety of multicolored band-aids over the two cuts. And in doing this he saw the previous scars. After this was done, he took her hands in his, kneeling on the bathroom's cool tile.

Nora sniffled. Peter bit his lip, unsure of what to say.

"How often?" He asked after a minute, head bowed.

She shook her head, "Not for a while now."

He shook his head, "Then… why now?"

She shrugged him off and stood up, still a bit unsteady on her feet. He tried to help her, but she brushed off his chivalrous attempts.

"I- I- I don't know..."

She stumbled out of the small bathroom, heading towards the kitchen.

 _"You don't know?_ That's all I get?" Peter appeared beside her. "Come on Nora, I'm your _boyfriend,_ for god's sake!"

She whirled around. "Oh yeah?! Well, if you're my boyfriend, then I guess I'd better just TELL YOU EVERYTHING ABOUT ME?! HUH!?"

Peter took a step back, shocked by her outburst. Then he whispered, "I just want to know why someone I care about would willingly hurt themselves..."

Nora sighed and wiped away the tears staining her cheeks. "I don't- I don't know, Peter… You wouldn't understand..." She whispered. "Maybe I just need to feel something?" 

"Feel something? Are you not alive?" He laughed, trying to lighten the mood. But her next words certainly did not.

"Well, I certainly don't feel alive."

Nora collapsed in the single chair at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands. Standing awkwardly in the door frame, Peter had no idea what to do. When Wanda'd been caught cutting, their Mum had been the one to 'deal with it.'

"Please… just leave," she muttered.

"Nora, I-"

"GO!" She cried, throwing her hands up in the air.

He tried coming towards her, but then she was gone. She'd paused time and gone off to who-knows-where.

.

With the world paused, Nora was able to do anything she wanted.

Sneak into a movie? Simple. Steal England's crown jewels? Done. She could even break into the Pentagon, the most secure building in America, if she felt like it.

But sometimes, she did things that were a lot more personal. Like right now, for instance.

As Peter moved towards her, she snapped her fingers. He was stopped in mid-step.

She got up, slowly, and walked over to him.

Face to face they stood, only one aware of their situation.

"Why..." She murmured. "Why do you have to care so much? Why… Why did I get stuck with you?" _You and all your glory,_ she thought.

She screamed, right to his face. "WHY?!"

He heard none of it, saw none of it. He would never know of this. Never know of how she collapsed at his feet, sobbing for nearly ten minutes before she left the state.

For Nora, it was a week-long excursion with a hundred lonely hours of self-cosntemplatation.

And for once, she _did_ feel lonely. She wanted to go back. To talk it out with him. So after five days of the world being in a time-stop, she let it go.

For Peter, and everyone else who cared, their 'silent-treatment fight' lasted two days.

Each missed the other dearly. But their prides were so big that neither wanted to be the one to cave in first.

Unsurprisingly, it was Nora who lasted the longest. After forty-eight hours, eleven minutes, and twenty-nine seconds of normal time, Peter couldn't take it any longer.

He appeared on the doorstep, and then in the kitchen -where it seemed she hadn't moved an inch from where he had last seen her.

In an instant, he grabbed her and they were both in the bedroom.

"Peter?! Wha- Ahh!" Nora squealed as he burrowed them both down into the sheets. She found herself clutched to his chest, their legs intertwined.

"I know you must have your reasons… But for me, it makes no sense whatsoever. I don't understand why you would do this… And you don't have to make me understand-"

"Peter, I-" She began."

"Please," he murmured into her ear. "Please promise me that you'll never hurt yourself again."

Nora breathed in his distinctive scent, her head buried in his chest. He cared. She need that. His caring.

"I promise," she whispered.

Peter knew there was something else. Something she wasn't telling him. But he wouldn't pry.

No. He wouldn't. She would tell him on her own time.

Nora didn't tell him the completely version of Tom's story -not for a long time. But. That day was the last time she cut for a long while.

.

.

.

 **Now. I'm sure the ending seems a bit cheesy, and too 'fairy-tale' with the whole 'sweeping-her-off-her-feet-thing' for some people. At least, looking at it now, that's what I see. The chapter's super short, but it's an important step in their relationship: Nora overcoming some of her issues.**

 **And for me, this ending has a deeper and more personal meaning. I was at a point in my life, and even still am with self-harm, where all I wanted was for someone to sweep me off my feet and whisk me away to somewhere where all the shittiness in the world didn't exist.**

 **And so I guess I embedded some of that in this chapter, and some in Nora's story as well.**

 **There's my meagre explanation. Thank you all for reading, I can't express in words how much it means to me that people are reading my story.**


	26. Chapter 24Chapter 26

**A/N: Hello everyone! Hopefully your day is going well :) If not, then I hope it gets better, and that that all didn't sound too cheesy…**

 **Thanks to everyone who's checked out this story! I think you'll be happy to see _one_ particular character in this chapter who's taken a leave of absence as of late.**

Anonymouscsifan: **And wow. That was a** _ **way**_ **better explanation than I could muster up. Mind if I use it in future chapters? ;) And yes, Peter definitely wants to be there for her, even if she is still unused to the concept of a 'boyfriend'!** **And cutting is definitely a sensitive topic -any form of self-harm, really. But you're right, it needs to be addressed to people are aware of it. Thank you for your thoughts :)**

 **Disclaimer: I. Do. Not. Own. X-Men. (*tosses ponytail* but if I did...)**

Chapter 24/Chapter 26

 _June 26h, 1972. Maple Grove High School._

"Arrgh!" Peter dropped his head down onto the book. The french textbook, which he was supposed to be reading. "Why do we have to do this? Stringing this many tests on at once… it can't be legal! The teachers must have some kind of addiction on putting all this stress on us!"

Nora took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. She smiled, this wasn't the first rant Peter had gone into over the past three days. And it wouldn't be the last.

"That's it," he said, suddenly standing up. "I'm done. I _quit._ -I'm dropping out!"

Nora tugged him back into his seat. The Librarian was giving the couple a look that could only be associated with that of a king looking down on his most disgusting peasant.

Yes. It was that time of year. The time that made all students tremble in fear. The time when the weakest were disposed of, one by one; and even the strongest were wary of. The time when the teachers could sit back and reminisce on their old former school days. Glad to be rid of that hell.

Exam week.

Otherwise known as the SAT. It was known to cause mental breakdowns, extreme cases of test anxiety, and occasionally: vomiting.

Of course, that's all an exaggeration. Nora had been witness to the medieval knight's version of a final exam. And it had not been pretty.

"It's not that bad," she comforted, gently patting his back. "At least you aren't being forced to fight your best friend to the death." That too was an exaggeration, but it _did_ get Peter's attention.

"When's that from?" He asked, referring to when she had travelled as to gain that information.

"Oh… mid-tenth century, I think?" She shrugged, "Nothing important really."

"Forced BFF duels to the death?" Peter raised an eyebrow. "Sounds intriguing."

Nora gave him a suggestive glance, completely aware of how Peter was trying to hide his French textbook out of sight.

"Out of sight doesn't mean out of mind," she quipped.

"I thought it _was_ 'out of sight, out of mind," Peter countered.

"True," Nora leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "But it's not getting you out of studying."

"Awww." He frowned.

"But..." He looked up, hopeful. "I _suppose_ I could tell you about it."

Peter smiled, grateful to be given a break -at least for the time being.

They had turned Nora's time-traveling into a sort of game. Every time she would spout off some obscure piece of trivia, she had to tell Peter where she had learned it. It wasn't always some 'fantastical adventure.' But the detail to which she spun her stories made even the simplest excursions seem epic.

As she explained the intricacies of squire-knight relations, Peter found his eyes dropping to her arms. She was wearing a sweater today; and had unknowingly pushed the sleeves up past her elbow.

He grimaced -but made it quick so she wouldn't notice- at the red lines marring her wrists. Six on the left, four on the right.

She hadn't hurt herself since he had caught her. But Peter still wondered, even past her meagre explanation, that there was another reason.

Why would someone do that to themselves?

.

.

.

 _June 20th, 1972. Maximoff Residence._

Peter knocked sharply on the door. She won't hear me, he realized. Not with the base being that loud.

He tried again, pounding his fist three times next to the 'do not disturb' sign.

Wanda growled, carefully placing her base guitar on her bed. "What is it Mo-" She opened the door a crack then stopped, mid-sentence.

 _Peter._ What the _hell_ was he doing here.

A million thoughts ran through her head before she made the decision to slam the door in his face.

"Wait," he stuck his foot in the doorway, wincing slightly as she continued closing it. "I need to talk to you."

"Fuck off."

Wanda tried to close it again. She was about to push him back with her telekinesis, but then the door was blown back and he was in her room.

She threw up her hands, "Why do I even try."

He didn't respond, only paced back and forth on the divide between Wanda and Brygit's side.

"Get out," Wanda ordered. She gestured for him to leave, but he didn't even look her way.

He seemed to be deep in thought, which was a change.

After another few seconds of silence, she huffed in annoyance. Wanda flopped down onto her bed, making the door slam shut in sync with her actions.

"Well now I can't leave."

"What do you want, Peter?"

He smiled wryly, "I almost thought you'd forgotten my name."

"Tell me what you need now, so I can say 'no' then blast you into another dimension."

Peter lay down above where she was on the bed; their bodies forming a T.

They were both quiet, the only sound being the occasional breath from her mouth. Wanda breathed louder than most, Peter knew because they had once shared a room. That was before their powers came about. Before everything went to shit -again.

The clock ticked, counting out forty-seven seconds before anyone said anything.

"Do you still cut?" Peter asked.

Wanda was shocked into silence by the personal nature of the question. Why was he expecting an answer to a question like that? Who did he think he was? Her bro- Oh. Right. He _was_ her brother.

How she had gotten stuck with this sorry fuck, Wanda had no idea.

"What's it to you?"

"It's Nora," Peter said. "I… She… Well; you're her friend," Wanda scoffed at this. "Or _she_ still thinks you guys are friends. And… Well… You must know..."

"I've seen them."

Peter let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"And in answer to your question," Wanda continued. "I don't cut -haven't. Not for a while."

"A while?"

"Last time was about ten months ago," Wanda said, referring to when Rosie had started 'dating' Peter. She remembered it like it was yesterday. The blood. The burning, throbbing sensation that accompanied her arm for the rest of the night.

"Why did you do it?" Peter asked. _Why_ do _you do it?_ He wanted to say.

"I felt like shit," she answered. _Because of you._ "What happened then… it just.. triggered me, I guess."

He had done this. Peter knew -they both did.

He remembered what had happened on that day. And now it didn't even make sense to _him._ Why had he done such a stupid, senseless act?!

 _You were trying to protect her._

That's what he told himself. That's how he slept at night.

But now it no longer made any sense. It hadn't for a while.

Not since Nora.

Peter's eyes trailed across the walls of his sister's room. They came across a particular poster.

Poland. He hadn't thought about that in years.

On their seventh birthday, Wanda and Peter had made a pact. They had sworn to someday return to their mother's homeland.

A distant memory resurfaced. Their mum, young and beautiful, the ongoing sense of sadness still fresh in her eyes.

They were outside a gas station, filling up just enough to get to the next town.

Peter and Wanda playing in the dirt that surrounded the old station wagon.

He missed that car. There had been so many good memories in it.

She missed those carefree days. When everything had been so simple.

Peter and Wanda both snapped back to reality. Both of them sat up, groggy.

"Was that you..." Peter asked.

"Sorry," Wanda murmured, rubbing her eyes. "Sometimes happens..."

"It's alright."

Peter stood up, brushing himself off. Wanda did the same, making the door open to her room.

"You don't just 'stop cutting.'" She stated. "It's kind of a… control complex. And if it gets really bad, it can become an addiction. ...I can't explain it anymore than that, Peter."

Peter nodded. That was his cue to leave. He did so.

But not before she said, "Take care of her, okay?"

He paused at the door, words caught in his throat.

"I will."

.

.

.

 _Present day._

"Hold up a minute."

Peter bent down to tie his shoe. Nora waited patiently beside him as the rest of their peers filed into the classroom.

"You think you'd be able to tie a shoe faster than that," she joked.

"It wasn't really untied." He stood up, smirking.

Nora stepped forward and put her lips to his. He placed his hands on her waist.

After a couple seconds, they broke apart.

"Are you sure you can't pause time and find the answers for me?" He asked.

"Why are you getting me to do _your_ dirty work!" She giggled.

Nora rarely giggled.

Peter pouted, then smiled as Nora did an exaggerated version of his frowning expression.

He kissed her one more time, fingertips lingering on her waist.

"You'll do fine," she breathed.

He nodded, still a bit nervous.

For what reason, Peter didn't know. After all, he had the best tutor in the world.

.

.

.

 **Thoughts?**


	27. Chapter 25Chapter 27

**A/N: So this feels like the longest chapter in… a while? Man, guys I'm sorry that the last few have been so short. I don't really have an explanation…**

 **Thanks to everyone who has checked out this story so far :) And, holy crap! It's almost hit 100 followers!**

anonymouscsifan: **Nope! No typo: the dates were just meant to show a flashback… sorry for the confusion :( And here in BC (Canada), exam week usually ends by the 30** **th** **of June. Yeah, Wanda** _ **should**_ **be hanging out with Nora and Peter… I'm kinda an asshole for keeping them apart for so long ;) Their prides are just to big! And as for Wanda knowing her name, that will be explained a little in this chapter as well as the next.** **Thank you, as always :D**

K.J. Bollinger: **Thank you! :)**

Chapter 25/Chapter 27

 _June 30th, 1972. Maple Grove High School._

"Wooo hooo!" Peter cheered ecstatically as him and Nora exited Maple Grove's campus.

The brunette smiled wryly as her boyfriend seemed to vibrate through the air, shouting in glee.

"Take that bitches!" He held his middle finger up to the school sign. "Another year down. One more to go!"

Nora would've been tempted to stop him, but they _were_ the only people there. Peter had been the (unsurprisingly) last person out of his Foundations Math exam. It seemed like everyone else had followed suit and vacated as soon as possible.

In a rare spirit of true joy, Peter picked Nora up by the waist and spun her around.

After he had set her back on the ground, she tugged the collar of her long-sleeved shirt, embarrassed.

He rarely made such public gestures of affection. She was still rather unused to all this… _connectivity._

"Where do you want to go?" He asked suddenly. "Venice, Berlin, Tokyo, Paris-"

He stopped, eyes widening. He hadn't meant to mention Paris. She usually didn't like to talk about her home country.

Nora brushed off his misstep. "I'm not sure. How about you surprise me?"

Peter's expression grew thoughtful. He tapped his chin, deep in thought.

"I'll be right back." And then he was gone.

Nora tucked a stray piece of hair that had been blown out of place by his speed. She strolled lazily down the school boulevard, messenger bag in tow.

After a few minutes passed, she sat down on a wooden bench. It was situated under a large oak tree, which gave her some shade in the dying lights of the day.

Even during the evening, the early summer heat still remained. The shade that this tree offered helped with the clothes she was wearing.

Long pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Not the ideal summer wear.

Usually during the summer holidays, Nora went away. Places where she could dress how she wanted -without the threat of contact.

But leaving almost always meant being alone. Being in an unending state of solitude.

While she was away, Nora often forgot what it was like to have friends. In the beginning, it was difficult. The isolation. The loneliness. The withdrawal; that was the worst part.

Forgetting those she once had. That was difficult.

She dreaded the time when she would have to leave him. Leave everything.

That time always came.

.

.

.

"So Brygit's birthday is coming up."

"Uh huh?" Nora nodded. They were sitting on the couch in her apartment. Nora was sitting cross-legged at one end, while Peter was stretched out, head in her lap.

He had brought back lemongrass chicken and pork. Both straight from a Vietnamese restaurant in LA.

"And, well, she asked me to ask you if you wanted to come."

"Really? How was _I_ honored with such a _prestigious_ invitation?"

Peter laughed quietly. "I don't know. She seems to have grown a liking to you over the past few months."

 _So her and Wanda basically switched places,_ Nora thought.

"When is it?" She asked.

"Twelfth of July," Peter answered.

"Will there be cupcakes?" Nora asked, reaching over Peter's head to her bowl of spiced rice and chicken.

In doing this, her shirt untucked and Peter got a full worm's-eye view of everything. Even though they could be considered 'mature' among most of their age group, they were still teenagers.

It took him a second to respond, "I- I'm sure that can be arranged. After all, she is fond of them herself."

Nora sighed in mock exasperation, "I gueeess I can put some time aside in my _extremely_ busy summer schedule..."

"I would expect nothing less from the exalted queen of my heart," Peter joked.

"And to you, my knight…. Knight of…." Nora's voice trailed off.

"I think the joke's over," Peter said.

"I think you're right," Nora agreed.

"Wanna make out?"

They disappeared from the living room.

.

.

.

 _1870, Mayfair, London; England._

 _R &S Garrard & Company _read the sign. Established in the 1800's; charged with the upkeep of the English crown jewels since 1843.

Pity. She'd been going for something a little closer to home. Perhaps the icy elegance of the French set. Or even the royal red Crown Jewels of the former Russian empire.

Oh well. England would have to do.

Nora stood nervously in the foyer of the small townhouse. An unusually small building for such an important establishment. She tugged at her corset, careful to keep her breathing short, steady, and unnoticeable due to the fact that it was near impossible to take in any air.

As the apprentice returned, she readjusted the small hat perched over her brow.

"Right this way, my lady." He held out his gloved hand (thank the lord!) and she took it, following him into the work shop. All the while, trying to keep her back as straight -but not too rigid!- and elegant as possible. The hat had the tendency to slip out of place, which made for an odd and unneeded distraction.

 _Elaborate the curls my_ ass _!_ (For that is what it was supposed to be for.)

The apprentice made her entry known (Lady Annabelle of her Majesty… and so on, and so forth…) before bidding his farewell and returning to his studies.

"Your Ladyship," the Master beckoned her forward, careful to bow deeply to the 'Queen's concierge'. "Is my masterpiece not a feast for the eyes…?"

It certainly _was_ quite magnificent. Tiny, simple, but no less beautiful. A fleur-de-lis adorned the space between each _cross-pattee._ And if history were to be correct, there were to be over 1,100 diamonds on this crown!

There weren't nearly as many set in at the moment. After all, they are to come from one of the Queen's own necklaces!

"It _is,_ quite… a feast." Nora made sure to perfectly pronounce everything she said in the most accurate British accent she was able to muster up. "And I assume _all_ of the stones are to remain colorless, as per the mourning requirements?"

"Of- of course, your Ladyship! We all mourned the death of the late Prince Albert, and would never even _dream_ of doing such a thing to tarnish his memory."

"I _see_ ," Nora said, turning her back to the jeweler. "You are very dedicated to your craft?"

"Oh, but of course!" The elderly man brought out a folder of papers, all previous re-imaginings of what was to be Queen Victoria's new crown.

As he rambled on about this design, and that design, Nora discretely slipped a few of the more recent sketches out of sight. She had plans for these.

After enduring nearly a half hour of the old man's long-winded rant -he was _very_ passionate about his craft- Nora was able to make her escape.

Waving goodbye to the apprentice who seemed to stare a _little too much_ at her skirt, Nora promised to send her final report to the Queen at once.

Of course, there would be no 'final report.' Because these sketches would not be going to the Queen. -The Queen of England, that is. They would be given (in some form or another) to a princess.

And the _real_ Lady Annabelle would be showing up approximately one hour later, to a _very_ confusedpair of jewelers.

.

"wHAT do you mean, _I was already here?!"_

"But- But I'm sure… I'm sorry your… your Ladyship? You were.. just.. just… here…"

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _July 12th, 1972. Maximoff Residence._

"I got it!" Brygit yelled as the doorbell rangfor at least the tenth time that day.

Her dress was a flurry of pink and red, feet bare, and her face painted in the design of a purple butterfly. Today was her birthday, which meant she got everything she wanted.

She flung the door open before exclaiming, "Nora!" She jumped and the teenage swung her up into her arms.

Peter had told Brygit a few weeks ago that Anne's _real_ name was Nora. Which was weird.

"But lying is bad," she told him.

"I know, B." He mussed her hair. "And Nora knows that. She feels very bad. So now she needs you guys to support her."

"So I have to call her _that_ now?"Brygit wasn't sure how she felt about this new name. It seemed very un-Anne-like.

Peter chuckled, "Yes, I think she would prefer you call her by her real name… But maybe you can just do it at home."

Now Brygit was confused. "So I can still call her by the first name when we're in the park? Or at school?"

Peter nodded slowly, "Yes, I think that'll do."

It took a bit of getting used to, but Nora had grown to like the two other people calling her by her real name.

Peter had told his mother the day Nora had explained it all to him, and she assumed Wanda knew (she had a habit of eavesdropping)… But then again, she hadn't talked to Wanda in a while.

"How is my favourite birthday girl!" Nora asked, carefully placing Brygit's feet back on the front porch.

The now-eight-year-old only smiled as she led the brunette into the house by her gloved hand.

The entire living room and backyard was completely decked out in streamers, balloons, and confetti. All various shades of pink and purple.

Peter had set up a miniature game of soccer between the two apple trees. Magda was bustling around the kitchen. She had to be sure that everything would be perfect for her little girl's eighth birthday. Wanda was fiddling with the stereo in the corner of the living room.

"Ooh, ooh!" Brygit's eyes lit up at the sight of the bag Nora was holding. "Is that my present?"

"Yes, it is," Nora giggled softly, as the eight-year-old tried to grab at the gift bag. "But it isn't present time just yet, now is it?"

The girl looked sad for a moment, until her energetic, one-track mind thought of something else. "Come meet my friends!"

Nora smiled on the outside, but the thought of a bunch of grabby second-graders made her glad she'd chosen to wear gloves and long clothes.

She let Brygit take her outside, and spent a few minutes learning the names of nearly every child in her class.

 _Oh, back in the day…_ _W_ _hen your parents made you invite_ everyone _to your birthday party._

Brygit was kind to all of them, talkative or not.

Sasha, Krissy, and Tam seemed to be Brygit's 'best friends.' There were also the more reclusive kids, whose parents had obviously helped them make their gift by hand. A couple of the boys, jumpy and athletic, seemed to think that they could take on Peter in a soccer match.

Speaking of Peter, he pulled Nora into a kiss, making a big show of it in front of all the youngins'.

"Ewwww," they all cried, covering their eyes in disgust.

"You two aren't _adults!"_

"Yeah! Why are you kissing? It's gross!"

Arm around her waist, Peter gave Nora a brief side-hug and a knowing look before riling the kids up once more for another soccer game.

Brygit loved birthdays, even if it wasn't hers. Though she obviously preferred to be the ones _receiving_ presents, giving them and seeing the reactions on peoples faces was almost just as fun.

Each brightly-wrapped box held a new toy, dress or book that she couldn't wait to unwrap.

Most years, things were either brought from out of town, or made at home.

But on her eighth birthday, Brygit received a gift that would out-do all the others for years to come.

"Eeeee!" The small girl squealed in delight as she reached the bottom of the gift bag.

It was a headband, with a small crown situated on top. The crown was beautiful, sparkling in the sunlight with too many gemstones to count. It's four arches intertwined at the top to form a shiny letter B. 'B', for Brygit.

She put it on immediately, face practically glowing with happiness.

As she continued to tear through her presents, Peter joined Nora on the steps of the back porch. She nodded, accepting the glass of punch he had brought to her.

He froze, noticing how Brygit was prancing around the yard. Wearing a head ornament that would have probably taken a lifetime -and then some!- to save up for.

"Please tell me you did not go back in time and steal some poor monarch's crown for my sister's _eighth birthday."_

"No, I did not," Nora corrected. "But I _did_ go back in time and got the plans for Queen Victoria's small diamond crown. And I _did_ make an exact replica for your sister's eight birthday."

"She's going to be insufferable for weeks," Peter groaned.

"Insufferably _happy!"_

"Ohhh noooo," he groaned again, putting his head on her shoulder.

"There there," she patted his silver hair. "I'll be there for you."

The rest of the afternoon was comparatively drab for Brygit, considering that she now had a personalized crown. She was the only one who didn't get tired after the _fifth_ soccer match. She ate as much cake as she wanted -much to Magda's displeasure. And she got to thank everyone for the generous gifts they had brought for her.

The last one wasn't as fun, but it was still necessary.

"I think you forgot to thank one last person," Peter nodded his head in Nora's direction.

"But what did she get-" Brygit's eyes widened in realization.

"OHMYGOSHTHANKYOU!"

"Oomph!" Nora grunted as she was tackled in a hug by the eight-year-old.

"The crown, it's perfect. And amazing and wonderful and perfect! Did I already say perfect? Well it is and I love it so thank youthankyouthankyou!"

"You're welcome." Nora said, thinking that Brygit had gotten Peter's 'talent' of relaying vast amounts of information in brief periods of time.

Brygit stared up at her brother and his girlfriend. She liked that the two of them were together. She didn't think it was gross when they kissed -even though they weren't adults. In fact, she thought it was adorable (and that was a big word!) whenever they laughed together. Then Peter would hug or kiss Nora on the forehead. And they would look happy.

But as they went through that regular routine, Brygit noticed that something seemed... _off_ about Peter.

.

.

.

 **A/N: dun, dun, duuuuuun! Whatever could be wrong?**

 **I decided to write the end of this chapter somewhat in Brygit's POV on a whim. Hopefully it didn't turn out to bad ;) Writing younger character's thoughts is always fun, but sometimes a little stressful as I'm not sure if I'm getting it right!**

 **And also, I wanted you guys to see what Nora and Peter's relationship was like from someone else's point of view.**

 **What do you think is going to happen next? Let me know what you think :)**


	28. Chapter 26Chapter28

**A/N: Holy crap! SO many followers! You people pushed the story _well_ past 100, and that makes me more happy than ever! _Thank you_ to everyone who's checked this story out in these past six-seven months, it's been so long, and I can't wait for you to read this chapter ;)**

K. : **Thank you again! :D**

Anonymouscsifan: **No problem, if you ever have questions, don't hesitate to ask.**

 **And Wanda _was_ at the party, there is a small mention of her. But as she's been absent during their relationship for the past two months, she still keeps her distance. (I know how frustrating that must be for you to read, but trust me, I have my reasons…) Thank you as always, you've been one of my main supporters through all this time :)**

Guest: **Eeeee! Just the** _ **thought**_ **that someone actually binge-read my story, like I've done to others** _ **so many times…**_ **That makes me so happy! :D**

Chapter 26/Chapter 28

 _July 15th, 1972._

"Hello, Nora! How are you today?" Magda stepped aside, welcoming the girl into her house. The new name still felt strange on her tongue.

"I'm well," she said. Though, actually, she wasn't. She had just got back from traveling to ancient Greece. She hated that time. She always got sunburned. "How are you?"

"I'm alright." Magda noticed how Nora's eyes searched flickered from room to room, as if searching for someone. "Though I'm afraid Peter isn't here right now. He went out about half an hour ago."

"Oh," Nora's shoulders slumped, her mood deflated. They had not made plans for today, but she had been hoping to surprise him.

"Sorry, hun… Would you like me to get you a lemonade?"

The girl seemed to get lost in her thoughts for a moment, but then she blinked, "Yes, please. I'd like that."

Magda busied herself in the kitchen, while Nora was entertained by Brygit prancing back and forth (wearing her new crown, of course) across the living room.

Peter had told her about Nora's true name and origins couple of weeks ago. Frankly, she hadn't been surprised. Any mother worth her salt would have noticed the girl was hiding something.

Magda knew Nora was lacking a mother figure from the moment they first met.

No one her age was _that_ mature, with out being forced into their situation. She was too awkward, too unused to care to have been properly raised.

"Just… please don't make a big deal of it," Peter had asked her

"Of course," she had said. "You know, _Pietro,_ I was young once too."

Magda actually felt that she held a lot in common with her son's beau. She knew that estranged, alienated look too well from looking in the mirror all these years.

She wouldn't press any further than her son had. It was up to Nora now.

"Here we go," she said, setting the tray down onto the coffee table. "Oh! Wanda! Why don't you come and join us?"

Nora groaned internally. There had already been four cups on the tray. She had planned this.

 _Are_ all _mothers this devious?_ She had, unfortunately, never known hers.

It was no secret to anyone that her daughter'd had a falling out with Nora over the past couple months. And it was obvious that her two eldest children were in the middle of a silent tug-of-war battle. Right now, it _looked_ like Peter was winning. But really, with everything Nora had hid from them, who could be _completely_ sure?

The four girls sat in the living room. Brygit and Wanda on the love-seat across from Magda and Nora on the sofa. For nearly a minute, no one said anything. Nora kept her gaze shifting around the room. Wanda simply glared at the floor. Brygit happily bounced in place, unbeknownst to the straining ties between Nora and her sister.

Magda stared at the brunette; then her daughter. Sometimes people could be just _so_ stubborn.

"So..." She began. "When do you go to Nationals again, sweetie?" She was, of course, referring to Wanda's place in the National music festival. And obviously, everyone already knew that she knew when it was taking place.

Frustrated, Wanda sighed, "Oh, come on Mum! What are you trying to accomplish here!?"

Bearing so much weight in a couple sentences, Magda stood up suddenly. Eyes ablaze, she stared down her eldest child. "What am _I_ trying to accomplish?! Well _I'm_ trying to do what _you_ haven't had the guts to do for two whole _months!"_

The blond walked out, taking Brygit with her.

Nora curled her knees up to her chest, lemonade sitting on the coffee table, forgotten. Wanda angrily stirred her drink with a striped white-and-green straw, eyes not leaving the ground.

Why was she still here? Magda's mission was doomed from the start. Her and Wanda would never be the same again.

But still, she tried to start a conversation.

"So, have you been practicing for Nationals?"

Wanda shrugged, grumbling, "A bit, I guess..."

"That's good… And then you're gonna go on that trip to Poland?"

Wanda crossed her arms, "What's it to you?"

Nora frowned, "What do you mean? I thought that was your plan all-"

"Cut the crap, _Anne."_

Nora flinched visibly at this.

"You lied about your name too. I wonder what that says about a person?" Wanda paused. "What else have you lied about, _Anne?_ Or do you prefer 'Nora' now that you're with _him?"_

"Please, Wanda… don't-" Nora was cut off.

 _"-_ I know you're still lying about something." Wanda stood up, looming over the brunette. "And trust me when I say this: when Peter finds out whatever it is, he'll leave you like he did all the rest."

Nora looked down, unable to meet her former friend's eyes.

"You think you're _so special._ So _innocent!_ 'Oh! Look at me! I'm Nora! I can do whatever I want 'cause I'm a _time-traveler!"_

"It doesn't work like that," Nora mumbled.

"Oh? What's that? More _lies?"_ Wanda questioned, hands clenched at her sides. "You think you're so _perfect,_ don't you? You think you're better than the rest of us just cause you can speak a few dozen languages! Well, newsflash, bitch! You're just as selfish as the rest of us!"

Nora crumpled in on herself, tucking her head into her knees.

 _I never wanted any of this to happen. I should have never come her. Should never have stayed. Made friends. And more than friends._

So Nora did the only thing she knew how to do.

She ran.

Wanda blinked, and Nora was gone.

One second she was there, the next the sofa was empty.

"Well that's just _typical,_ isn't it!" She growled. "Running away -same as always!"

She was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling dramatically with each breath.

Wanda flexed her fingers. She arched her back to look up at the ceiling.

But something was wrong. She had been planning what she was going to say for months. But now that she had said it. Now that it was done…

She felt empty inside.

.

.

.

Shoes crunched down the gravel road. Nora sprinted towards the Montgomery Lake, time-stop still in effect.

She passed a couple of cars, all of them frozen in their movement down the road. A group of her classmates were also making their way to the lake. But they too, had stopped moving.

She ran, arms pumping, hair blowing behind her. Nora run until her chest felt like it was about to explode. She ran until her legs ached. Until she could only breathe in gasps; her voice raspy.

The lake sparkled in the sunlight, crystals of white dancing across its blue surface. Evergreen trees dotted the edge of the water, forming an expansive forest. Multiple camp sites had been set up amongst the trees. Some families even had cabins up here

and stayed up the lake for the entire summer.

Others had their spots simply staked out for the weekend beach bonfires. Both Peter and Wanda both frequented these during the holidays. But neither of them made it a habit of getting _completely_ sloshed. Those times were saved for the in-town parties.

Nora found their usual rock, and collapsed on top of it.

 _What was she doing. Why was she still here?_

She should have left months ago.

"You've been telling yourself that forever, Nora," she said to herself.

But now things had gotten bad. She had caused an even greater rift between two siblings. Twins, nonetheless. They were fighting. Over _her._

People should never hate one another for such silly things. Silly things like the love of someone else.

Stupid love triangles like this never ended well. Someone always ended up broken, or dead.

Nora fisted her hands into the grass and screamed out over the lake.

The echo of her scream fell on deaf ears. Since no one could be listening right now.

She sighed, and felt the customary weight of time returning to normal lift off of her shoulders.

Nora stayed there for another hour, then froze time and made her way back into town.

She found Peter in the Library, of all places. Sitting in the language reference section.

"Hey," she said, sitting down next to him on the carpeted floor.

His head jerked up from the book he was reading. For a second, he looked surprised. Scared, even. But then he smiled and everything was alright.

 _"_ _Bonjour,"_ he greeted her in turn.

Nora raised an eyebrow. He was reading a book on the 'basics of French' she noticed.

 _"_ _How are you?"_ She asked, also speaking in her native tongue.

He responded in turn, _"_ _I am good, and you?"_

 _"Good."_

It was funny, after two semesters of French, this was still how far their conversations went. Nora had gotten Peter up to speed with his writing. That had turned out to be a stroke of luck, since the entire exam had practically been written -but his speaking was still very bad.

He sighed, "And that's all I can do for now… Though I guess you already knew that."

Nora laughed, careful to keep her voice down, and kissed him on the cheek. "It's a work in progress. If you spend the rest of the summer with me, I promise you'll be fluent by the time September first rolls around."

She sat back, realizing the gravity of her words.

He was quiet, dwelling on what she had just said.

"Of course," she stuttered out. "I don't mean staying with _me_ twenty-four-seven. You obviously want to be with your family… I didn't mean it like that. I just thought we could keep the tutoring going… 'Cause, you know, language… bilingual stuff.."

Both of them knew that any of their latest 'tutoring sessions' usually ended in them just making out.

Peter took her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "Of course. Whatever you want."

He seemed quiet. Like he was holding something back. Nora noticed this, but pushed it to the back of her mind. She had already ruined someone else's day. And she wasn't in the mood to add another's to the list.

As she said nothing, Peter grew skittish.

 _She knows. Oh god, she knows. What am I going to do? She's smart enough to have deduced it all… what do I do if she knows?_

His gut told him to flee. But his brain made him continue with the plan. If today was to be anything other than a success, he had to keep the plan going.

"We should go somewhere," he suggested.

"Like where?" She asked. _Somewhere exotic, hopefully. Or somewhere with food._ Nora was starving, having just spent an extra two hours in a time stop.

"I dunno… Maybe like.. Somewhere with food?"

Suddenly, Nora burst out laughing. She clasped one hand over her stomach, rocking back and forth on the library's carpeted floor.

It took her a minute, but she eventually quieted down. (Mainly due to he scathing glare of the librarian.)

"Food… I guess great minds _do_ think alike."

Peter stared at her strangely, wondering how someone so curious had made her way into his life.

He didn't regret it. Not one bit.

"Where would you like to go?"

She paused, thinking. "What about… Idaho?"

"Idaho?!" Now it was his turn to laugh. "What's in Idaho?"

"Only the _greatest_ pizza you've never had!"

Only a few months. And Peter knew he would never meet someone like her again.

"Hmmm… I'm not really feeling pizza."

Nora pouted, "Then what do you want?"

He shrugged, "I came across this cafe in New York a few days ago… It's not too well-known, but the danish I tried was really good."

He noticed her micro-reaction at the mention of New York. But she seemed to settle down at his mentioning that the place was little-known.

"Well, maybe we can get pizza after. -If you're up to it!" Nora held out her hands, "I don't want to make you run across the state just to get me some 'almighty danish'!"

Peter stood up as she did, putting his hands on his hips. "Who said anything about just _me_ going?"

By the time she had opened her mouth to gasp, Nora found herself out of the library, and in the entrance to an alleyway.

Looking around her, she smiled coyly.

The side street was lit only by a small string of coloured lights. There was a tiny table and two chairs set up in one corner. The place looked recently-swept. Odd for a New York alley. For any alley, really.

After checking around for any unbecoming characters, Nora sat herself down in the left chair, stretching out her legs.

Eight seconds later, Peter appeared with a plate of fluffy-looking pastries, and a steaming pizza box.

"Straight outta the oven. -I hope you like pepperoni!"

She blushed. He never ceased to amaze.

"What did I do to deserve you..."

He laughed, sitting down across from her. "I have no idea, but it must have been something big."

She raised an eyebrow.

"After all, I _am_ in such _rare_ supply."

"Alright," she reached across the table and playfully hit him on the shoulder. "Don't oversell yourself."

He laughed and tossed Nora a bottle of Pepsi. It was an offhand throw, but her hand darted up and caught it like a pro-league baseball player.

Peter had figured out a while ago that Nora didn't like Coke. They both agreed that Pepsi was leagues better.

She took the bottle opener he was offering, opened it up and took a swig.

It was refreshing in the humid summer heat.

The food was great. This was the least-sketchiest back alley Nora had ever eaten in. He was perfect.

How had she found him? How was he still with her? Had she not done something yet? Something to scare him off?

Nora was about to say something, but then noticed how Peter was staring at her.

He was looking at her like someone would look at a gutter cat. Like pity, mixed with hints of disgust.

"What's wrong?… Do I have something on my face?" She tried to laugh it off, but his face stayed with the same, troubled expression.

"Peter-"

He couldn't hold it in any longer. "You lied to me, Nora."

She blinked worriedly.

"About everything."

 _Oh no. I thought we'd gotten past this._

"You thought it was all fine."

Nora could now taste something else in the soda she'd just drank. Something… foreign.

Internal instincts kicked in. _You need to go._ Now.

She tried to stand up, but only succeeded in scraping the chair back across the pavement. The world spun around her, each breath she took maxed to full volume.

Peter took her hands, holding them in a death grip.

Nora curled in on herself, back arching over the table. She tried to stand up. To move. To do anything.

But she couldn't. She couldn't move.

She was held up by him. His fingertips dug into her forearms. Peter leaned in real close, and now she could truly see his eyes. They were hurt. Betrayed. Just like she was feeling right now.

"You lied to me."

She tried to speak. To tell him the truth; that she hadn't meant to.

"How could you?"

But it was too late.

Her head spun as it fell to the table's surface. Darkness swam at the edge of her vision. First in spots, then consuming it wholly.

.

.

.

 **Mwaaaahahahahahahaha…. Thoughts?**


	29. Chapter 27Chapter 29

**A/N: Soooo… XD Ya'll have _no idea_ how long I've been waiting to post that chapter! And the reactions were perfect. Lots of 'wtf' and 'is it normal to drug one's significant other in the 70's?'**

 **All completely normal reactions -I think ;)**

 **Lots explanation in this chapter… So that'll hopefully sate your tempers! XD**

anonymouscsifan: **I know… I'm mean for leaving you like that… Hopefully this'll make up for some?**

K.J. Bollinger: **Thank you!**

Jb: **Here's some more!**

Guest (1): **Thank you so much! I'm so happy that you like it this much! I don't have any plans to abandon this story, and if you ever have any questions, I'll do my best to answer them ;)**

Guest (2): **Nope! ;) Not a nightmare, though I can say that Nora's is just beginning…**

 **I'd like to thank everyone who read this story in the last week. There was an explosion in the amount of followers, almost two every day! It makes me so happy just to see it, every time there's a new notification in my inbox. Thank you all 33s**

 ***No disrespect to former Defense Minister Laird; I don't mean to paint him in such a mean light, ,this is just how I would picture someone in his place during a situation like this.**

Chapter 27/Chapter 29

 _July 25th, 1972. Washington DC, the Oval Office._

"Mr President? There's been an update on the case from earlier."

President Richard Nixon sighed, "Laird, I get that same phrase spoken to me at least five times a day."

US Defense Minister Melvin Laird let himself in the rest of the way to the President's office, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"Mr President," he said, sitting down across from the world leader of the United States of America. "I am referring to the murder-missing persons case involving the teenage girl from Maryland. The one with.. the… you know… 'Abilities.'"

Nixon sat back in his chair, thoughtfully stroking his chin. He _had_ been wondering why Laird had come himself to discuss such a simple prison sentence such as this.

Of course, they both knew this decision was anything but simple.

"People like her cannot afford to be allowed on our streets," Laird stated plainly. "-And although we have not had a situation like this in quite a few years… this is yet another perfect example as to why things like this need to be _contained."_

President Nixon stood up suddenly and began to pace back and forth. He had heard all the stories. All the arguments. There were so many complexities.

"And by this 'thing'" he huffed. "You mean a _child…_ a citizen of our country."

"Technically, Mr President, she is neither of those things."

Confused, Nixon turned to his subordinate.

"Just what do you mean by that?" He questioned.

Laird nodded, and placed a thin file on the desk between them, "The felon in question is sixteen years old -of legal age to be tried as an adult. And…" Laird continued, "Our sources confirmed that she is an 'illegal immigrant' of sorts."

"Of what country?" Nixon asked.

"France, Mr President."

 _That information could most definitely be problematic if it were released to the public,_ Nixon thought. "And this source," he inquired. "Is it the same on who revealed the… _felon's_ location and identity."

"Yes, Mr President."

Nixon sat back down in his chair, eyes wrought with worry.

"Mr President, if I may suggest something," Laird held out his hands in a placid gesture. "There was a similar case almost a decade ago, related to the incident in Cuba-"

"Cuba was never confirmed!" Nixon interjected. "And God knows we've pushed that to the back of our memories."

"But late, former President Kennedy's assassination _was_ most definitely confirmed."

Nixon raised a questioning eyebrow, "Just what are you suggesting, Laird?"

Laird closed his eyes, "Do you know what happened to the man responsible for Kennedy's murder?"

"I know that he was imprisoned," Nixon stated. He had an idea of where Laird was going with this, but he was not sure if he liked it or not.

"We stow it away," Laird began, standing up and placing his hands behind his back. "We lock it up and _keep it_ hidden from the public eye. No one is ever hurt again, because no one knows. No one _did_ know."

"But what of the source?" Nixon asked. What if they spilled it all to the press?

"Money talks," Laird stated simply. "Or in this case, keeps people quiet."

Nixon thoughtfully rubbed his chin. Though from his exterior he may have seemed calm and collected, he was 'freaking out', as the kids would say, on the inside.

Could he sacrifice the livelihood of _one_ teenager… Or the possible future of his country?

He knew what his answer should be. What it would have to be.

He had been chosen to make these decisions. By the people. _For_ the people.

Nixon did not know what would happen in the years to come; whether or not this _one_ person would become a serious threat.

But there was the possibility. She _could_ become a threat. There was past proof of that.

That was all he needed. All the evidence that was needed for her conviction.

Laird waited patiently for his answer. Soon, he got his.

"You can promise me she will never be heard from again?"

"With utmost certainty, Mr President."

"Then do what you see fit," Nixon commanded, taking a sip from his now-lukewarm coffee.

But what he did not realize at the time, was that is saying that, he had opened a whole new shop of horrors.

.

.

.

 _...Location and time unknown..._

The next few days were a blur for Nora.

A blur, that even years later, she would always have trouble distinguishing.

She had been drugged -she knew this much. Nora'd had a tube shoved up her nostril for those three, awful days. She assumed they had her on a constant airflow of numbing anesthesia and laughing gas -to keep her from thinking or moving too much.

She remembered that her hands were at first bound with duct tape. A very classy approach, she thought so herself.

When Nora woke up the first time, she was in the back of a cube van. She was surrounded by masked, armored men, and the moment she moved to sit up there were a dozen guns pointed at her.

The drugs Peter had slipped her still had not worn off, so she was extremely groggy.

Her hands and feet were bound, (with duct tape) so all she did was wriggle around on the ground pathetically for a few seconds.

She fell back into unconsciousness soon after.

The next time she awoke, Nora was sitting in a grey room.

She was interrogated there; a situation she had not been in for a very long time.

They asked her dozens of questions, none of which she answered due to the drugs. And even if she wasn't so high, Nora would not have wasted her time on these imbeciles.

Men and women. Even a couple of colour. Her interrogators changed on an hourly basis.

"Who are you?" They asked.

"Anne Green; Beverly Morrison; Diane Cleary; Susan Jacobs; did you go by all of these aliases?"

"Where were you born? Are you an illegal immigrant?"

One woman was especially persistent.

Nora read her as easily as a birthday card.

 _Relatively new to her area of work. Associated mainly with men all her life. Probably has older brothers. Always had to find her own way. Grew up the runt of the litter? Dog tags around her neck. Belonged to someone special. Who? Brother.. Lover… Father?_

She stayed longer than most. Eager to… No. _Desperate._ Desperate to prove herself.

Nora tried to keep it together, but her psychoanalysis of the woman eventually dissolved into fragmented shambles.

She was shown three pictures. _Flags,_ she thought.

One was yellow, black and red. With a symbol in the centre.

Did they think she was an East German spy?

The second was red with a gold emblem in its corner. Nora made an involuntary twitch -one the interrogator failed to pick up.

She was not a communist.

The third was distinguishably striped red and white, with a smattering of white stars in the upper right corner.

Nora blinked. Or was it the left corner? She was seeing double. They had taken away her glasses.

The man showing her the flags -he was attractive; dark hair, darker eyes. He asked for the flow of numbing drugs to be distilled.

So they could have a more 'active conversation' he said.

He was smarter than the others. More in tune to her situation. He had realized that she wouldn't be able to answer any of his questions even if she had wanted to.

As soon as the girl began to regain her train of thought, Jack thought he had made some progress.

He held up another picture -this one of the French flag.

He waited for her to respond.

But in time, her attention focused not on him, but on an unseen person in the corner of the room.

Her eyes widened, and she reeled back in her chair.

Covering her face with her hands, she muttered hurriedly to herself. Words that Jack could not distinguish.

Blissfully unaware of her hallucination of the blonde-haired, green-eyed boy; those watching the exchange took her reaction as confirmation of her nationality.

 _So she_ is _French,_ Jack thought to himself.

This, of course, was true. But his conclusion on the matter frankly had nothing to do with the pictures she'd been shown.

"How old are you?"

"Do you bear any ill-will towards the United States of America?"

"To what reach do your abilities extend?"

They thought they were making progress. The drugs now only just kept her from activating a time-stop and busting the hell out of there.

"Do you know who this man is?"

She was shown a black-and-white photograph of a dark-haired man wearing a long coat and hat. She could barely distinguish his face…

"Is he familiar to you in _any_ way?"

To be honest. He _did_ seem a bit familiar.

Actually, Nora was sure she had seen him before.

She told them none of this.

Nora spoke not one word to any of them for the entire fourteen hours she was held there.

That was well past the legal limit. But they had long-since forgone anything resembling legality.

Not to mention the near-lethal concoction of anesthesias they had been forcing into her system for.

For most people, the mixture of drugs she was being fed would have permanently addled their brains long ago.

But then again, she had self-trained immunity in six different deadly poisons.

There was no lawyer. No 'Miranda Rights' in place for her.

Nora would not be given a fair trial -or any trial for that matter.

None of this followed the so-called 'code' that ran the US judicial system.

Every single one of her illegal-immigrant's rights were being violated.

Of course, those only really counted for humans.

And Nora was anything but human.

.

.

.

 _August 6th, 1972._

"This isn't legal."

"I am aware of that."

"Then _why_ are we letting this happen?"

The director of the Pentagon turned to face his chief of security, and long-time friend.

"We are _letting_ this happen because these are our _orders."_

"And since _when_ do our orders transcend the barriers of _human morality?"_

"This is not our first case like this." The director knew his friend got skittish in times like these.

"Yes, but this is the first involving a _child!"_

"How does that change things?" The director asked.

"How does that change things?!"

"-You _know_ what she did." HIs friend always read the file, unlike the director himself. "You know what she is _capable_ of. What could happen if she were to be let loose on the world."

"But she's been 'in the world' for the past seventeen years!"

Neither of them knew _when_ the girl they were talking about was actually from.

"That's not the point," the director huffed.

 _"That's exactly the point!"_

The director sighed, running a twitchy hand through his hair.

"We have our orders, Levine."

His friend for over fifteen years stood up abruptly and stared him directly in the eye.

"Then you can consider this the last time I ever take 'our orders.'"

.

.

.

 _...Location and time unknown…_

Nora blinked as the bright light suddenly flashed.

There was no dramatic pause in between like in the movies.

One picture facing forwards, one of her profile.

As they were still keeping her drugged -though on a smaller dosage- she was sitting in a chair for her mug shots. An assistant had to move her into place, and hold the card stating her name and age.

Nora assumed the interns would have a good chuckle over her picture.

Bloodshot eyes; hair all askew; plastic tubes stuck in her nostrils.

She looked a mess.

Though that was nothing compared to what she felt like on the inside.

Her heart was not broken. Physically, that was impossible.

Physically, it ached. A longing, betrayed, questioning ache.

Questioning... as to why?

Metaphorically, it felt as if her heart had been dug out of her chest with a spoon, then stamped into a pulp on a bed of nails.

She avoided dwelling on that for too long.

That feeling, combined with the drugs, was enough to make anyone sick for days.

She had, of course, thrown up. Three times -to be precise.

Now, Nora was in the back of a truck. They'd made her go to sleep, and then she'd woken up here.

It was a simple grey box, with a bench on either side. The entire chamber rattled with every bump in the road.

Nora sat in the back, keeping company with two guards.

Both were armed with a hand gun and a taser. They were armed to the minimum, due to the extra insurance.

That 'insurance' being the near-empty tank supplying Nora's inebriated state.

Yes. The metal cylinder was almost empty. And neither of the guards had bothered to check.

Nora, of course, had immediately noticed the change in flow.

It was a slow, but increasing ebb that had been going on for the duration of their four-hour drive thus far.

A few more minutes, and Nora might be able to walk -even run- on her own.

She waited. Quietly. Patiently. Keeping her face blank and jaw slack -as it had been fro the past few hours.

The two guards were having a rather animated conversation. Lots of hand-waving and such.

Nora didn't care to listen. None of that was important right now.

Right now, she was planning her escape.

First, she would knock over the cylinder so that it would roll to the other end of the truck's back compartment. The plastic tubing that connected her to it would be pulled out in the progress.

This would shock them into action. Even if they were less mentally able than she (though most people were) neither of them were slow enough to _not_ realize that her being _off_ the drugs was a _very_ bad thing.

One -or preferably, both- would go after the rolling canister. The other would freak out, because she was no longer under the 'supreme influence' of the drugs.

He would fumble about and try to get everything back in place before Nora could realize what was going on.

But what neither of them knew was that she had long-since been evading the major side-effects of sleepy and dizziness.

Nora would catch them by surprise.

She would jump up and knock one back into the other with a hasty kick to the chest.

The first thing would be to get rid of the tasers. Nora was counting on the fact that they wouldn't use their guns on her.

That, and the element of surprise.

They assumed that she was docile and quiet. Not that she had been trained in over seven different kinds of long-dead fighting techniques.

Three minutes had passed. Brain function was nearly at full capacity. She had her plan down to the last possible outcome.

 _29.7% chance of failure._

 _17.3% chance of success._

The rest of the statistics represented things much less likely to happen. (All in the 0.1 to 3.2% range.)

Things like breaking her neck. Or crashing the truck.

All unlikely, but still probable.

Slowly, Nora inched her left foot towards the canister. When it was one inch away, she took a final, deep breath.

One last moment of clarity before the chaos began.

Then, making no extra noise, she silently pushed the gas container over with the cloth toe of her shoe.

It rolled down the metal aisle, clanging as it went. Instantaneously pulling the plastic tubes from her nose.

Both guards jumped up. One shouted at the other to grab the metal cylinder. He fumbled to do so.

Nora kept her face slack and emotionless until both of their back were turned.

With each unobstructed breath, her mind became clearer and clearer. But Nora did not let herself revel in the moment.

Now, it was time to act.

She leaped up, balling her hands up in front of her face.

Nora slowed time down as the two men became aware of her presence.

She lashed out, swinging her leg around to knock the first man back into the next. A sharp jab to the neck, then two more to the face insured the first's unconsciousness.

She was too weak right now. She could slow time down, but not yet stop it.

The other guard tried to take her down, but he was clumsy; in shock from what she had done.

Nora nimbly dodged to the left, evading his un-calculated blows. As he stumbled past her, she kicked in the back of his knees, following up with a roundhouse to the back of the head.

Once both were on the ground, Nora wasted no time in ridding them of their weapons.

In the driver's seat, Anton McCoy flinched involuntarily as he heard the commotion ensue in the compartment behind him.

There was a clang, hurried footsteps, multiple thumps, and a couple of shouts. Then, the unmistakeable crackle of a taser being charged up.

Quiet footfalls -steps like a cat's

The small metal window behind his head opened suddenly. Anton flinched again.

He did not look behind him. Wary. Confused. Afraid.

"Stop the van." Her voice was soft. Almost… calming.

He felt fingers brush the back of his neck. A sharp intake of breath from the girl.

 _We're headed to the Pentagon._ That was all Anton had been told.

Nora threateningly sparked the taser once more.

"Stop the van, now. Or you will spend the rest of your life eating through a tube."

Anton whimpered and quickly pulled the van over to the side of the road. He put the emergency brake in and held his hands up. The way she said it. Something told him she wasn't lying.

"Thank you for your compliance," Nora stated calmly, holding out her hand for the keys.

Once the back door was opened, a silent alarm would be triggered. Nora knew this from Dower's (one of the guards) memories.

A heavily-armed vehicle was stationed on a continuous route just two miles behind them. Once she opened the door, they would know something was wrong.

So she opened the door, sliding it above her head with two trembling hands.

It would take at least another week -by her estimate- for the drugs' effects to completely wear off.

She would have to stick with running for now.

Nora wasn't too bad of a runner. It just took a lot of… effort.

She stepped down onto the dirt at the edge of the road.

The grey jumpsuit Nora'd been put in was hot and stifling in this summer weather.

She tugged at the collar a few times, airing out her torso.

She had two tasers and some spare change taken off of the two guard's bodies.

Nora turned to the tree line. _I guess it's time to disappear again._

"Hey!"

Nora spun around to see Lieutenant Dower -in all his blonde-haired, blue-eyed glory- level his pistol at her.

 _Merde._ Why had she not rid them of their guns? Nora wasn't thinking straight these days.

She tried to duck out of the way, but wasn't fast enough.

She heard the gun go off, and all sensible train of thought left her as Nora was blown back onto the pavement.

.

.

.

It was dark. She could not see. Her hearing was muffled.

She was in pain; her body hurt all over.

Nora didn't know how long she had been unconscious.

Her eyes were closed, she realized. It hurt to even think about opening them.

But she needed to. Nora needed to see where she was. What was happening.

So she did. Blinking at first, until she was able to keep her eyes open for normal increments of time.

A room. White, and strangely shaped.

And a man. One Nora thought she recognized.


	30. Chapter 28Chapter 30

**A/N: OhmygoodnessI'msohappy! _SO_ many thank-yous to give out… and all of them to you! The readers, who surprisingly passed 100 favourites and 140 follows and 80 reviews -gaaaahh! This is crazy! Thank you all SO much XD**

 **And of course, I need to apologize for the continued cliff-hangers. Many of the upcoming chapters will feature such things, and I know you guys were especially cranky that there are _still_ no answers as to why Peter would do such a thing…. And you won't find out this week.**

 **But I have a gift, and a promise. The gift is _two_ chapters in one update. I felt really bad about the last two cliffhangers… so here's another one! *crying-laughing emoji* But here's my promise: in the next update, there _will_ be answers. _And_ an appearance from the currently-hated speedster.**

K.J. Bollinger: **Thank you! :)**

anonymouscsifan: **Apologies… apologies… *bows solemnly to avoid the flying rotten tomatoes* Many of your feelings that certain humans have a hand in this are correct… though not just yet ;) And Wanda will** _ **definitely**_ **notice Nora's disappearance. I'm sorry about all the cliff hangers, but thank you, as always, for reviewing :D**

Andy105: **Who? You'll find out in this chapter ;)**

luna3818: **Ahhh! I'm sorry for betraying you :( But trust me, things will work out. And don't hate the Maximoff's** **too** **much… After all:** _ **I'm**_ **the one who writes them that way… -_-**

C.B. Weasley: **Hopefully you'll like this chapter, but no answers just yet…**

Adrillian1497: **HOLY CRAP! A REVIEW! HERE YOU GO!**

MusicPunkLovingAnimeGirl: **Yes he can be a little bit of a shit sometimes...**

Chapter 28/Chapter 30

"There were two bullets. They took them both out."

Nora kept quiet, idly poking at the bandages that swathed her right shoulder.

"Hopefully they'll send in some antibiotics -for the infection," he added.

She nodded. Nora knew what antibiotics were. She could make them herself.

"Either way, you're starting to smell." The dark-haired man gestured to a locked door set into one wall of their cell. "They unlock that every morning and turn on the shower water."

Nora didn't respond to this. She turned away. Hopefully, he would take the hint and stop talking.

"You're not much of a talker."

She could detect traces of an accent in his speech. Eastern European, by the sound of it. German, maybe. Polish, probably.

"I don't mind silence. It's just, I rarely get a chance to talk to anyone else."

She kept quiet. Nora wanted to analyze him first. To gain the upper hand.

She lay down on her side, back to him, and after a silent twenty minutes she fell asleep.

They were given meals three times in what Nora assumed was a day. 'Meals' that were pre-packaged plates of different coloured mush.

A newspaper was also delivered at lunch time. She did not bother to read it.

Nora stayed sitting in the same spot for five days -except to go to the bathroom or wash up.

She tried to inspect the room as best she could, but her glasses had been taken away upon her arrival. So that made things a bit difficult.

On the sixth day, a new pair arrived. Clear, plastic frames with spotless glass lenses.

"There was probably metal in your original pair," her cellmate stated as she put them on. "They take everything containing that away on account of what I can do."

Nora blinked a few times as her vision began to readjust. _At least they got the prescription right._

She looked up and saw her the man's face clearly for the first time.

Erik looked up from his newspaper as the new girl flattened herself against the wall. She stared directly at him, eyes wide: as if she was seeing a ghost.

Her feet slid out from under her as she tried to push herself further back into the wall.

 _It was him._ The man who'd killed John F. Kennedy. The man who'd been in Vice-Principal Miller's office… Back in Brooklyn: all those years ago.

"Are you alright?" He drawled, clearly preposing a rhetorical question.

His answer came in that of her falling forward in a dead faint.

"Well then…" He was about to leave it at that and return to his reading. But then Erik noticed the pool of blood beginning to spill out from under her body.

She had bashed her nose quite badly, and now it was bleeding.

Erik cleaned it up as best he could. Then he lay her down on her side in recovery position and placed his thumb and fore-finger over the bridge of her nose.

He stayed like that for a while, until the bleeding had been completely staunched.

Suddenly, she sat up, knocking him back in the process.

She blinked a great deal before settling her gaze on him.

"You touched me."

Erik raised an eyebrow. _An interesting choice for her first words._

"You were just touching me, weren't you?"

"I was stopping your nosebleed, so yes," he confirmed.

She stared at the ground, apparently in deep thought.

"How is this possible?" She muttered to herself. "How did… what?"

She seemed fine now to Erik. 'Fine' as in completely over the fact that just a couple of moments ago she was nearly accusing him of being a pervert.

But still, the girl seemed confused. She was looking around. As if for something she'd lost.

Erik had never truly prepared for a roommate. But he had most definitely not expected anything like this.

After another minute of her ramblings, he decided to go with, "Are you alright?"

.

.

 _Pentagon Security Centre._

 _What I just saw… Did that actually just happen?_

Security Officer Colfer sat back in his comfortable swivel chair, mouth open in shock.

The girl they had deposited in with prisoner zero-one had just fallen unconscious.

As in: literally fallen down and passed out. Nothing had happened. She had just passed out!

"Well, shit," he muttered. There definitely had to be some paperwork written up about this.

And now there was blood. A small pool, but a mess that needed to be cleaned up nonetheless.

As he turned around to get ahold of someone who would be able to take care of this situation (he was only a monitor), Colfer didn't notice how prisoner zero-one helped zero-two onto her side.

An abnormal exchange on zero-one's part. One that would have usually been noted in the log.

"Hello? Yeah… Yes, I need some clean-up done in the cell."

Colfer paused as the receiver of his message responded.

"Which cell? Whadda you mean by that? There's only the one!"

He waited again, then was startled by the sudden, snarky retort.

"Um… yes, yes, I'm sure you know what you're doing… Fifteen years, eh? That's a long time… Yes, I'll let you get to work. Sorry for the disturbance, and thank-"

He was cut off as the person on the other end hung up.

"Fuckin' people," he grumbled, returning to his very, boring job.

.

.

"I… I don't feel too good..."

"Well I'm sure that's normal. You _did_ just fall on your face, after all."

"Well if you were sure, then why did you ask me if I was alright?" Nora crossed her arms, facing the man. She needed to finish analyzing him as much as possible before revealing anything.

"Isn't that what you ask whenever someone's been hurt?"

"I suppose..." Nora said. "Though it does seem kind of silly."

"Most rhetorical questions are."

The man was directly across from her now. Both of them sat with their legs crossed, backs ramrod straight -an old habit in both their cases.

Nora touched her nose lightly, feeling around for any existential damage.

"So..." She said after a minute. "Are you _sure_ we haven't met before?"

"Why do you ask?" Erik was sure he'd have remembered someone with such _fantastic_ hair.

"It's just… this thing. It happens when I touch people... for the first time."

"Well that sounds suggestive."

"I know how it sounds!" She growled at him. "I… I just thought I'd ask."

 _It hadn't happened with him! No new memories. No surge of information…_ _N_ _othing_ _at all_ _!_

This left Nora very confused, and almost entirely sure that they'd met before.

Was he lying? Or did he really just not know?

"Well hopefully they'll send us something to clean up with." He gestured to her bloody nose and the mess on the floor.

The man looked like he was about to return to his newspaper, when he suddenly remembered something.

"Oh, of course. I should probably know your name. There's no real way to tell how long you'll be stuck in here with me."

Nora shrugged self-consciously, "Well I'm sure I'll be in here for a while… didn't exactly win the medal of honor out there..."

The man cocked an eyebrow, "What _did_ you do? It must have been bad..."

Nora stared at him. "How about we start with names, soldier. Then, _maybe,_ I'll think about telling you my life story."

"I suppose that's fair.

"Well, I'm Nora." She held out her hand and he shook it. As the exchange happened, she couldn't hep but notice the subtle change in his eyes when she proclaimed her name.

He blinked, and the look was gone. "No last name?"

She shook her head, "No last name."

"Alright," he began. "My name is Erik. Erik Lensherr."

He waited for her reaction. The realization that _he_ had been the one to kill the president. Most people would be terrified. Frightened of him.

But something about her was different; of this he was sure. And it showed in her reaction.

Her eyes widened; her bottom lip dropped slightly.

Nora blinked a few times, consciously rolling her injured shoulder around in its socket.

"Erik..." She murmured. "Erik… Erik Lensherr… Oh, oh, this all makes so much sense now."

"What do you mean?"

Nora took a deep breath, nervously tugging on her grey jumpsuit. "We _have_ met before. That's what I mean." She paused momentarily. Then thought, _to hell with it._ "It's me, Erik. The same Nora from under your bed…" She laughed quietly at this. "Warsaw, Poland, 1939… We met."

It took him a second to fully realize what she'd said. Erik shook his head. No; it was impossible. _That_ Nora had disappeared from his life as suddenly as she had appeared.

After meeting Charles, he had come to the conclusion that she was also a mutant. Someone with the ability to teleport… like Azazel had been able to.

"But that's impossible..." He said. "That was over thirty years ago… yet you're hardly any older!"

"Yes..." Nora confirmed to herself. "And I'm guessing that it must have been quite a shock to see me looking exactly the same when you had actually aged twenty years."

"What?" Now, Erik was doubly confused. He had no idea what was going on. Why on earth was she being so cryptic?

"Charles Xavier," Nora stated. This made Erik put his newspaper down.

"What about him?" He asked cooly.

All the pieces were beginning to fall together for Nora.

"He took you to an elementary school in Brooklyn, New York..." she paused, "On October sixth, 1962."

Erik thought back that time. His time with Charles, when everything had seemed so much… simpler. He found that he could remember that day very well.

The girl they had found was Nora. The Nora he had known. Except… she had not aged a bit.

She looked exactly the same as she did during the one and only time they'd previously met.

Which was impossible… right?

He had excused himself from the office, convinced that he was seeing things. Maybe she was some long-lost relative of the Nora he'd known. Who just happened to look exactly the same...

But now he was not so sure… Perhaps she had been more than a sleepless-ness-induced hallucination.

"That was me, Erik," Nora explained. "I was the girl in Brooklyn _and_ the one in

Warsaw. And, if I am to assume correctly, you are very confused right now."

He put his head in his hands, "Well you're right about one thing."

Nora thought about her next move, then asked, "Are there any security cameras in here?"

He nodded, "But I don't think there is any audio. Only visual." He had deduced that information years ago.

 _Good. That could be used to their advantage,_ Nora thought.

"I never truthfully explained how I got into your room," she began.

Erik nodded, "I always assumed that you were just a teleporter." But now he was sure it was more than that.

Nora laughed softly, "I wish it was just that..."

"So what _can_ you do?" Erik asked.

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

Erik smiled, _So she_ is _smarter than the average mutant._

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that your ability has something to do with time travel."

Nora stared at him intently for a moment. Then her eyes widened, and she reared back in uproarious laughter.

Confused, Erik stared at her. He hadn't said anything funny, had he?

After a few moments of _that_ confusion, she took a deep breath and said, "You just told me an incredibly hilarious joke. I laughed, as they would expect."

 _Oh, this would be interesting._

"If I am correct to assume, those watching do not know the full extent of your abilities?" Erik suggested.

Nora shook her head, "Correct." She assumed if Peter _had_ told them the full extent of her abilities, she would not be locked up with the mutant who killed JFK. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

"That could eventually be used to our advantage."

Nora grinned, "My thoughts exactly."

She didn't mention that she had no idea how to control the one part of her time-traveling. And that everything could become jeopardized if she just randomly disappeared someday. (Her second travel of the month was due in a couple of weeks.) But they would cross that bridge when it came upon them.

With their microwave mashed potatoes-and-beef dinner, came a package of wet-wipes. These were begrudgingly used to clean up Nora's bloody mess.

Over the next few days, Nora and Erik put on a show for the cameras. They progressed their friendship as slowly as anyone in their situation would. Though, in reality, they'd known of each other's existence for years.

Erik was becoming accustomed to the fact that the girl he'd known for six hours, then never seen again was sitting right in front of him. (Currently picking some beef out of her teeth with a plastic fork.)

After that day, _she_ was the only reason Erik had kept going. That, and the thought of revenge against Shaw.

But Erik had never been able to find her. His short-lived friend had disappeared, seemingly, into thin air.

Until October of 1962.

It had come as the shock of his life, seeing Nora -who looked exactly the same- standing before him over twenty years later.

Now it all made sense… kind of.

.

.

.

 ***Apologies for OOC Erik... I just couldn't get his character right in this chapter :(**


	31. Chapter 29Chapter 31

**A/N: Part 2 of my apology update :D (And a much longer chapter than the last one…) And it's also exam week, so I've barely written anything in the past seven days… I'm not _quite_ sure how far that'll set me back, but since its summer next week, I'll have _way_ more time to dedicate to this story! :D**

Chapter 29/Chapter 31

"It's your turn."

"I know." Erik's eyes were narrowed, calculating his next move. He had to choose very carefully. Otherwise, he would lose this round -and with it, his pride.

"I'm waaaaiiting."

"Just give me a minute!" He said indignantly.

Eyes flickered back and forth. Then, finally, he made his move.

"Do you have… any aces?"

Nora smirked gleefully, "Go fish."

"Damn!" He threw his hand face-down and reluctantly picked up another card from the deck.

Nora held up her three cards in a meticulously-made fan. She scanned over then: one two, a seven, and a lone king.

What to do…

Based on what they had both previously placed down and what cards he had asked for, there was a forty per cent chance that Erik was harboring a seven somewhere in that growing hand of his.

She took a deep breath, careful to keep her poker face guarded.

"Do you have any sevens?"

His left eye twitched. But only just. A small, but reassuring sign that her calculations had been right.

For a moment, he made no more. But, noticing her stare, Erik flicked the card across to here.

"Hah!" She smiled, placing the pair face-up in front of her. Nora tried to fist-pump the air, but stopped as a spark of pain flashed across her back.

Erik noticed this but said nothing. Her shoulder was healing, amongst other things; it would take time.

But that didn't stop her from kicking his ass in Go-Fish.

"How." He asked.

"Genius, remember?" Nora tapped one side of her temple with an index finger.

"How could I forget?"

She won the round in the next two minutes, much to Erik's displeasure. But his wounded pride would not let him go down without at least one win amongst all his losses. (The score was currently four to zero, in Nora's favor.)

"At least let me redeem myself," he muttered, quickly re-shuffling the deck.

She smiled and was about to agree when Nora was suddenly hit with a reeling sense of pain in her forehead.

"Ow..." She winced and held a hand over her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing… I just woke up with the worst headache." The pain surged again and she bit her finger to keep from crying out.

"It doesn't seem like nothing," Erik said cautiously.

They both had suspicions that it wasn't.

"That and your shoulder," he continued. "How is it feeling?"

"Never better," she muttered.

"You need to take your antibiotics," he scolded her, holding out the small plastic container.

"Yes _Mum,"_ she joked, grabbing it from him.

Nora retired to the mat and rested for the remainder of the day. Their game lay abandoned, with Erik solemnly beginning a new tower of cards.

Nora was still asleep when their dinners arrived, and he decided that it was best not to wake her.

The 'mat' was a thin piece of foam that Erik had slept on for the past ten-plus years. It was used less-so for comfort and more for insulation against the floor's cold surface.

He and Nora had agreed to switch sleeping places every other night, and though tonight was technically _his_ turn on the mat, he let her sleep.

 _Best not to wake the sleeping beast; no matter how small the beast may be._

During the night, Nora tossed and turned, unable to be rid of her nightmares. She had them almost every night, but never seemed to remember what they were of.

Erik stayed awake until her breathing returned to normal, watching over her.

The next morning, Nora rose, brighter and invigorated. All uneasiness from the previous day was seemingly gone.

Once she realized where she'd slept, Nora quickly apologized to Erik for taking the mat on a night that hadn't been hers.

"It's alright," he condoned. "I'll just have it the next two times."

She nodded slowly at this.

They played War today, and the rallies won were practically reversed.

"How are you so good at this?" Nora marveled as he trumped her again with another hidden ace.

"I guess some of us are just more _sophisticated_ in our ways of thinking," he said, putting an emphasis on 'sophisticated.' 

Nora's agitation was clear on her face, and she playfully hit him on the shoulder at the sight of his mischievous smile.

"Oh, shut up! Professional 'Go-Fish' actually takes a lot of brainpower -I'll have you know!"

He only laughed at this.

With their mushy eggs and bacon 'breakfast' the weekly newspaper was dropped off as well. This time, accompanied by something new.

"Are these supposed to be… scissors?" Nora asked, holding the object up to the light.

Erik nodded, turning to the politics section of the newspaper.

"But… what? How are _these_ scissors?"

"It is a mystery that defies human thought," Erik quipped.

"They're so clumsy," Nora continued. "And there's no… metal." Her eyes widened as the realization dawned on her.

"Did you really forget as to why I am in here?" Erik questioned.

"No, no… Well; yes." Nora _had_ forgotten. Without any metal in their lives, the existence of Erik's mutation had completely skipped her mind.

He chuckled softly, his voice low, "Trust me, even _I_ forget, sometimes."

Yes. Even _Erik_ sometimes forgot what he was once capable of.

 _What I am_ still _capable of._ Sometimes he needed to reassure himself of that.

"Well what are we supposed to do with these, anyways?"

"They're meant for cutting hair," Erik sated simply. _As useless as the damn things are._

"You can't be serious!" Nora cried, gesturing wildly, the _plastic_ sheers still in her hand. "These are made of _plastic!_ How is that supposed to get anything done?!"

Erik contained his smile at her predictable outburst, "It really doesn't."

They ate their lunch in silence, Erik retired from politics, and moved his attention to the crossword.

Within three minutes, he had five of the words filled in.

"Four letters; formed in one's head."

Nora jerked up from examining the scissors, "What?"

"Four letters; formed in one's head," Erik repeated carefully. "What do you think it is?"

"Idea," she said instantaneously.

A few more minutes later, Erik's face morphed into a puzzled expression.

"What is it now?" Nora asked, scooting over to sit beside him.

"I don't know, that's the problem."

Nora gently took the paper from him, folding it until there was a thick enough surface to write on.

"Oh, that's easy," she said, quickly writing down the answer.

"Only because you're a genius."

"Oh, so you admit it!" Nora laughed at Erik's deer-in-the-headlights look. "Though I _am_ impressed that you got 'leeway'," she complimented him, noticing his grumpy frown.

"Oh, I'm sure."

"How about..." Nora said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "-I cut your hair!"

"What."

"Come on, pleeease! It'll be fun!"

"I sincerely doubt that."

"I promise I'll be careful." She snipped the scissors; though not in a completely unthreatening way. "And besides, how much damage can I do with these? They're _plastic."_

Erik consciously rubbed the back of his neck. _A lot more than most would assume._

She settled in behind him, legs crossed daintily. Erik's hair now stuck out around the back of his head, curling around his ears. Each piece took about four snips (and no small amount of tugging) to shorten.

"Ow, ow! Watch it!" Erik jerked forward as Nora accidentally clipped the back of his neck. "I thought you were being careful!"

"And I thought these were just _plastic,"_ Nora said.

"Not entirely," Erik explained. "I know for a fact that there's some kind of stone compound in there. Something that makes it sharp enough."

"But no metal."

He sighed, "Unfortunately not."

It took another minute for Erik to relax again, this time settling back a bit more than Nora was expecting.

She was careful to keep her breathing calm and her blush to a minimum.

The way he acted. The way Erik seemed to relax around her was almost… familiar. Like they'd done this before?

"Seven letters; advise or barrister," he asked, breaking Nora from her reverie.

"Um… counsel," she answered. She focused her attention back on cutting his hair.

Soon, her mind began to drift back to the past. _But that was impossible. They had only met the once._ (Nora didn't count Brooklyn.)

"Five letters; have a gut feeling?"

"Jeez, man. You're losing it."

"Do you know the answer or not."

"Alrighty then, grumpy," she nervously tried to laugh off her uncomfortable feelings of deja vu. "It's _s_ _ense,_ obviously."

Erik rolled his eyes, _obviously._

After a few more minutes of silent-haircutting and disgruntled crossword-figuring-out, Nora sat back a little.

"There; all done." She was pleased with her work. It had hardly been an easy job, especially with such crappy scissors. (And the most un-conversational customer to date.)

"Well, it's not like we have a mirror to check," Erik commented.

"What do you mean by 'check'?" Nora gasped dramatically. "Do you not have any _faith_ in my hairdressing abilities?!"

"I think I can agree with that with complete certainty," Erik said.

"Fine," Nora hur-umphed. "No more haircuts for you. You get to do that yourself from now on!"

He raised an eyebrow, "You know, there was a time when I was _alone_ in here."

"Hah!" She scoffed, "I don't know how you could've survived."

"And yet here we are."

Nora laughed quietly at this. Looking into Erik's eyes, she was hit with yet another uneasy feeling of recognition.

 _You know who he reminds you of. Yet you still refuse to admit it!_

"How long do you think it's been?" Nora asked.

"How long since what?"

"Since I got here."

Erik thought to himself for a moment before saying, "Not that long. A couple of weeks, maybe."

"It feels like longer." It felt like _months._ So long since she'd seen the sun. Felt fresh air on her face. Talked to another person. _Seen_ other people.

And Erik. Nora could not imagine what it had been like for him. Having to adjust to all of this on his _own._

"Hey."

Nora blinked, Erik stopped waving his hand in front of her face.

"It gets better. Especially since you're not alone."

"Hmm," she nodded.

"Now… do you want me to cut _your_ hair?"

She snorted, then fell backwards, laughing. "You?!"

"Fine then, be that way." She stayed like that for a few more moments. Erik crossed his arms grumpily.

Nora sat back up, taking a deep breath to restore her lungs. "Ohhh, man..."

"I assume that was a no?" He said, referring to her _very_ kind rejection.

"I'm sorry," Nora struggled to keep from bursting out into peals of laughter. "It's just- It's just an odd thought.."

A spark of mischief glinted in Erik's eye, otherwise his expression stayed steely and grey.

Nora considered the option. Seriously, this time. She grasped a lock of her brown hair and twisted it between her thumb and index finger. The ends were splitting; she seemed unable to ever stop that from happening.

For as long as she could remember, her hair had been long. It was the one, steadfast thing that had stayed the same during her entire stay in this time.

There had been times when she'd wanted to shear it off. During the hot, summer months, or when she was feeling especially depressed.

But she had never followed through with it. Not once. Perhaps, because her hair served as a sort of reminder for Nora.

A reminder of what her true mission was.

To go back. To change things.

But maybe… maybe it was time for a change.

"Erik?" She said

He looked at her.

"Would you mind… actually… doing that for me?"

He made no sly, or clever remark. He was solemn and quiet through the whole process.

It was all strangely dramatic for just a simple hair cut.

Once, when he was reaching for a piece near the crown of her head, his arm came into view. His sleeve pulled back and she saw the numbers branded on his forearm.

Those too, were a reminder. One that could _not_ be removed.

How often did he think about that time, she wondered. How often did his demons resurface to haunt him?

Hers were always there. Hovering, just above her shoulders.

Her hair fell in a circle around her. Erik would be picking stray strands of it off his uniform for hours to come.

He cut it so that the ends fell just above her shoulders. It was light. Bouncy. Different.

Once it was done, they gathered all of her cut hair and threw it down the trash chute along with their breakfast garbage.

"Somehow, I thought it would feel more… conclusive," Nora murmured.

"It's just hair," Erik said, though he somehow knew it was much more than that for her.

Her headache was still there. Prowling in the background like the impending strike of a beast.

Nora decided to take a shower. There was only twenty minutes left before the door was locked, so she had to make it quick.

One door that was always kept open was for the toilet. The one to the shower only opened in the mornings.

It felt strange washing her hair. Now that it was so short, it took a lot less time than before.

When she was done, there was a new uniform for her in the laundry chute. She deposited the old one in the adjacent compartment. Presumably, so that it could be cleaned.

As she exited the shower, Nora tied her damp hair back with a rope braided from several spare threads found on her many uniforms.

"How does it feel?" Erik asked, referring to her hair.

"Not bad," Nora said, self-consciously tugging a shortened curl. "It's just.. different."

"I did an okay job, then?"

"Yes," she smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Erik."

He nodded and was about to return to his newspaper when his eyes fixated on her face again.

"What is it?" 

She lifted one hand to try and feel for what he was staring at.

"Your nose is bleeding." _Again,_ he wanted to add.

 _Merde,_ Nora immediately pinched the bridge of her nose to stop it. Her fingers were already beginning to ache.

"Did you fall down again?"

The look she gave him made Erik shut up.

The throbbing in her temple had intensified. Soon, it would be all she could focus on.

Nora backed up until she hit a wall, sliding down until she was curled up on the floor.

Erik cautiously stepped towards her. "It's happening, isn't it?"

She could only nod, clamping both hands over her ears.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" He was genuinely concerned.

She gestured to the water closet's open door.

"You want me to close the door?" Erik wasn't sure how that would help, but hey, she was the expert, not him.

She shook her head, choking out, "No..."

"What, then?"

"Put… me… there.."

He did so, scooping her up in the process.

 _The lights seem to be getting quite bright,_ he thought.

Nora's eyes opened suddenly, and Erik saw that her pupils were rimmed with an ethereal, golden glow.

 _"_ _Leave!"_ She gasped out.

Erik left her, closing the door behind him.

He waited patiently on the other side, and little did they know, Nora and Erik were actually sitting back to back. Only separated by the closed door.

Erik frowned as he heard her whimpers. He wanted to help, but there was nothing he could do.

This kind of power was out of his league.

.

.

.

 _New York, New York. October 29, 1929._

Nora casually slipped out of the boutique. She quickly made her way down the busy street, heels clacking on the dirty pavement.

Slipping into an alleyway, she let time return to its normal state. The noises that had been paused for the last thirty minutes resumed as she joined the throngs of people that traversed the city's streets.

Her hair, though short, was still quite big. It was a struggle to keep it under the tiny hat she was wearing, and her dress seemed far too slinky and sheer for normal daytime wear.

Snapping her fingers, she grabbed a large over-coat from a frozen street vendor, then resumed time as she skirted away.

Everything here was so bright. So flamboyant, so… _roaring._

'Twas the life that took place during the twenties.

Pausing momentarily, Nora looked sympathetically towards a small, family-owned bakery down the road. Odds are, within the month, they would be shutting down.

In the future, today would be known as Black Tuesday. The day the stock market crashed.

The bankrupt decade that followed would be remembered in the history books as the Great Depression. And depressing it was.

So many starving people. Bankrupt companies. Defeated countries.

All because of money -or lack thereof.

All eventually roused by yet _another_ world war.

 _History is destined to repeat itself; and repeat itself it does._

Nora had a cup of tea and a biscuit, watching as the people of New York scurried around in their little mouse-like lives.

 _Imagine if we're all just trapped in some tiny aquarium. What if our entire galaxy is just in some kind of snow globe?_

That would make everything they did almost meaningless. And everything she'd done a lot easier to bear.

Nora was suddenly joined by another woman who sat down at her table.

"Um… Excuse me?"

She was the same height as Nora. Old, but seemed to have aged gracefully. Long, grey curls held back in a handkerchief. Large sunglasses covering her face.

Her clothes were strange, and rather progressive for this time, Nora noticed.

"Can I help you?"

The woman glanced at her watch carelessly, then looked to the girl who's lunch she was currently interrupting.

"No. I am actually here to help _you."_

Nora frowned, "And you're doing that how?"

"I have a message for you," the woman said, completely disregarding Nora's questionn.

"What?" _What?_ She repeated in her mind.

"On June seventeenth, 1982. Bring _her_ to your home."

This just brought on a whole new set of questions. All of which the woman sat through, face blank as a marble statue.

"1982?! How does one even think of a time like that? _Her?_ What do you mean by that? Stop playing the pronoun game! And my _home?_ I don't have a _home,_ thanks for asking!"

Nora kept her facade up. She didn't know who this woman thought she was, but she couldn't let on the fact that she wasn't from this time.

The older woman looked around. She seemed almost nervous when she repeated what she had said before, only this time, it was slightly abridged.

"June seventeenth. Bring her to where you were born. You will know what I mean when the time comes."

She got up to leave, but Nora grabbed her by the wrist before she could get any further.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Who on earth did she think she was? Barging in like this, spouting crackpot nonsense!

The older woman sighed, taking off her glasses. "I forgot how insistent I could be..."

Nora found herself transfixed by the woman's face. Staring into her dark, brown eyes, her mind completely forwent the strange comment.

It was her. The same woman from the bridge back in Salem… The woman who'd convinced her not to jump… But how?

"Look around you, Nora."

The busy bustling sounds of New York's city centre were all silent. No people ran, no cars moved, nor dogs barked, or birds crowed.

"Who are you...?"

Everything had stopped. Halted; as if frozen… in time.

 _I wonder if this is how people feel when I first show them my powers,_ Nora thought, dumbfounded.

Suddenly, she realized that she had gotten no memories from the woman. Nothing had happened when she touched her.

"You're… you're like me!"

"Oh Lord," the woman put a hand to her wrinkled forehead. "Is it _really_ that difficult of a concept for you to grasp on to? Don't you get it? I _am_ you."

The whole world seemed to zoom in on Nora. Her knees went weak. Hands shaking. She… she couldn't think of anything to say.

Nora fell back down in her chair, eyes fixated on the ground at her feet.

"Oh dear," the older Nora sighed and pushed some hair away from her face. "I forgot how traumatizing it can be to meet your future self.."

"You… You're… me?" Nora pointed at the woman, then at herself.

"Yes."

"From the _future."_

"Yep."

Nora gulped, tugging nervously on her jacket. This was earth-shattering. She felt as if her entire world was falling down around her.

"This… this can't be happening!" She clamped both hands over her ears.

"Yeah, yeah; let's get through this whole spiel. You freak out: 'oh my god, how is this happening?' I calm you down: 'yeah, yeah; let's get through this whole spiel.' You freak out some more-"

She stopped as the woman noticed how Nora was staring at her.

"Too much?"

Nora nodded slowly, "A little."

The woman shrugged, "I get that a lot."

"So you're me," Nora said after a moment. _"Future_ me."

"I thought we'd already gotten past this."

"Yeah… okay... then, why are you here?"

The woman -or 'Older Nora' as Nora was beginning to call her- sighed again, "Did you not get my message?"

"No, I'm not really understanding a word you're saying."

"Do you at least _remember_ it?" The older Nora was getting quite exasperated with her younger self.

"June seventeenth, 1982," Nora recited. "Bring 'her' to the place… where I was born. So.. Paris?"

"Yes."

"Who's 'her'?" Was it Wanda? Or someone else she hadn't met yet?

"Like I said, you will know what that means when the time comes."

"Could you _be_ any more cryptic?" Nora complained.

"Yes, actually," Older Nora said. "Though I've been told that it can be a bit much."

Nora snorted, _well at least I retain_ some _sense of humor._

Older Nora plucked a donut from behind the bakery's viewing case. "How's the shoulder?" She asked, nibbling daintily on the deep-fried pastry.

 _How did she…? Oh._ Right.

"Still hurts," Nora said, slowly rotating it around in its socket. "But the antibodies are helping."

"Yeah. That's about the one thing they got right."

"What do you mean by that?" Nora leaned forward.

"Absolutely nothing."

Nora shrunk into herself a little. "What… What's going to happen to me?" She asked meekly. She was afraid of what would happen when she returned. Now that they had a better idea of what she could do. Surely, her one-hour absence would not go unnoticed.

The woman frowned. She knew -to some extent- but could not tell.

"Your shoulder will heal. But other things… They will not. I am sorry, Nora, for what is about to happen."

She got up, then Nora called out, "What do you mean by that?"

The woman turned back around, "After I leave, you have about two minutes until you will travel back. I suggest going to the bathroom. Leave the door unlocked, but lean against it so that no one else can come it."

Nora had been thinking about doing the exact same thing.

"You don't have to tell me what to do," she called back. "I know what I'm doing -and so do you. We're the same person."

Her elder self stopped walking and briefly glanced back at her. "No. We're not."


	32. Chapter 30Chapter 32

**A/N: And heeeeeere we go! The much-anticipated chapter… In it we take a break from Nora's confusing shit-show and return momentarily to Silver Spring…**

 **Thank you _so much_ to everyone who's read this in the last week, over 150 followers! That's insane XD**

anonymouscsifan: **The 1982 bit** _ **maaay**_ **tie-in with the Apocalypse timeline ;) And Nora's future self will** _ **definitely**_ **be making more appearances; Wanda will** _ **not**_ **be pleased to learn of Nora's disappearance. Thank you for the support :D I always look forward to hearing from you.**

Adrillian1497: **I'm sooooorrreee, please forgive me :( Hopefully this chapter will make up for some ;)**

MusicPunkLovingAnimeGirl: **Here's some more! And if you're confused, please ask me what about and I'll gladly try and explain :)**

luna3818: **Yeah, their strange friendship and stranger backstories are two things I love about them ;)**

Laura: **haha, I looked up the song, it's pretty cool! :)**

.Princess: **Thank you! I'm so happy that you like it, and please ask about specific parts that you find confusing, then I can try and explain it to you :) Here's another chapter, hopefully less face-punching than the last… XD**

Chapter 30/Chapter 32

 _Maple Grove High School. September 6th, 1972._

The senior students -all those in grades eleven and twelve- slowly filed out of their current classrooms and ambled their way down to the auditorium.

They were a slow-moving mass of teens. Teeming with an over-abundance of make-up, brightly-coloured clothing and hair, BO, and a variety of odd-smelling deodorants meant to curb that body odor.

"Today, I welcome you to another school year," the principal spoke, holding his hands out to the senior student population. "For some, this may be your last, and I advise you to cherish your remaining months with us."

Many a student scoffed at this, Pietro Maximoff being one of them.

As the start-of-year assembly went on, he couldn't help but think of how much a joke this all was.

People told him to remember these years. That they would become the best ones as his life went on. High school -the greatest time of your life!

He snorted quietly, "Load of crap."

Peter would most definitely remember his time in high school; the last year in particular. But he would remember none of it for the good.

He never said her name. Peter was barely even able to think of it without some sort of backlash from Wanda.

The story of _her disappearance_ had not been in the papers. She was simply gone… like some leaves in the wind.

Peter was never able to truly hide anything from his sister. A lack of privacy came with having a empathic twin.

He remembered the day she confronted him. Barely two weeks after it had happened.

"Wanda, what are you-"

"You son of a bITCH!" The blow hit him from across the yard, ten feet from where she was standing.

He reeled back, hand clasped over the spot where she had hit him.

Brygit immediately burst into tears, Peter whisking her away to inside the house.

When he returned, Wanda was seething. Red sparks of electricity crackled across her hands and around her head like a deathly halo.

"Why did you do that?" He yelled at her. "And in front of Brygit, too?!"

She seemed to falter slightly at their sister's name. But then she growled at him, "Where's _Nora,_ Peter?"

He blinked. All the air was sucked from his lungs. Peter didn't know if that was Wanda's doing or his own.

"I know you have something to do with her being gone!"

His current reaction just confirmed it even further.

"I couldn't… I didn't wan… It… I-"

"-Tell me what happened!" Wanda ordered, stalking towards him. _"Where is she?"_

All of this was too much. Far too much for the both of them.

 _"She's gone!"_ Peter cried, hands thrown out at his sides. "She's gone… okay?" He couldn't tell her what happened.

"That's not an answer!" Wanda was so angry. Angry at everyone. Angry at Nora for leaving; angry at Peter for letting her go -or maybe even driving her away!

"Well what do you want me to tell you?" Peter cried. They were so close to one another. Almost nose to nose. "That she lied to us about _everything?_ Or that she has some secret past that even _I_ didn't know about?!"

 _"You?_ What makes _you_ so special?"

Peter could see she was on the verge of tears, but that didn't stop him from saying, "I was her _boyfriend!"_

"And I was her FRIEND!" Wanda screamed, throwing her hands out at either side of her. Red blasts of energy shot out from them, knocking down two parts of their backyard's picket fence.

"Are you _insane?!"_ Peter grabbed her hands, but was shoved back by her telekinesis.

"Don't touch me." Wanda waved him away, then began to pace back and forth.

"Why did she leave?" She asked.

"She… she didn't," Peter said, rubbing his shoulder. It hurt. A lot. Wanda had hurt him. "Some secret-agent types came and took her away," he continued.

"And you _let them?!"_ How could this be happening? Wanda thought; how could Peter have done this? He was supposed to care about them!

"I didn't want it to be this way!" Peter wanted to tell her the truth. So, so badly.

"Oh, I'm _sure..."_

"Wanda, you don't understand what's really going on."

"-Oh, _really?"_ She hissed at him. "'Cause I think I understand _perfectly."_

"No," Peter tried to tell her. "You don't get it! I-"

 _"I_ don't get it? NO! _You_ don't get it! -I LOVED HER!" Wanda screamed the last bit straight into his face.

Peter took a step back. He rubbed his eyes, then ran a distraught hand through his hair.

Wanda's chest was heaving. She wouldn't cry here. She would _not_ let _him_ see her cry. She couldn't. She needed to get the anger out. Before anything else was destroyed.

"I HATE YOU!" She screamed. _There. Keep it going._ "You lied and you hurt her and I _hate you!" Let it all out._

"Wanda, I-"

"She trusted you, Peter!" Wanda cried. "She trusted you… and you ruined everything!"

Her argument was veering off towards the childish side, but that did not change the force of each stinging word Peter had to take.

Wanda's eyes were a blazing red; tears streamed down her cheeks. This was, by far, the worst thing Peter had ever done.

Wanda used her telekinesis to levitate herself into the air. She didn't care if anyone saw.

Peter let her fly away.

He was sure that he would forever remember that day. The last time he ever intentionally hurt his sister.

Twelfth grade. The grand finale of American high school. Graduation, prom, the final SAT's. It was all supposed to be important.

But to Peter, it meant nothing.

He had stumbled through the past few weeks, only focusing on _not_ thinking about her.

If he went twenty minutes without doing so, twenty minutes without the experiencing the crushing realization of what he'd done _yet again;_ then that day was considered a win.

Wanda came straight home from school each day. She spent the rest of the time shut up in her room.

His mum. She said nothing -Magda didn't need to. But the looks she gave him… Pure disappointment.

The only person who would talk to him now was Brygit. Sweet, innocent Brygit. He thought she understood what had happened a little. But not entirely.

He had passed French with flying colours. Most of his other courses, too. But Peter didn't care.

The only thing that mattered now was why.

Why come to him? Why had she… come to him?

.

.

.

 _July 10th, 1972. Silver Spring, Maryland, USA._

"I'll see you tomorrow," Peter grinned and kissed Nora.

She smiled and waved as she went into her house.

Peter stayed there for a moment. Then, unable to keep still any longer, he sped down the road.

Peter had always been faster than everyone else.

When it came to the recess schoolyard races -and eventually, the soccer pitch- he'd always been on top.

For years, it had been that way; then Nora had come along. She was quicker than him -though obviously not in the physical sense. She was so smart; clever. Whenever Peter was about to burn someone with a scathing comeback, she was always there. Two metaphorical steps ahead.

He loved her so much.

How often he had to restrain himself from ravishing her from head to toe. It could be a struggle to keep himself under control. Especially with his _abilities._ That meant thinking about a _lot_ of dead puppies.

Sex wasn't a major part in their relationship. In truth, they had not gone there yet. Though it could be a little disappointing at time, Peter knew that Nora had experienced things -both physically and mentally- that were beyond his comprehension.

Though he couldn't deny that making out with her was one of his favourite things to do.

As Peter came upon the end of his street, he slowed his pace to a brisk walk. His house was just twenty feet away, he was about to run there when he noticed something.

That was weird, all the lights were out. The entire block -and just this one!- was dark.

One streetlamp slowly flickered on. It lasted but a moment before sputtering out in a shower of sparks.

"Shit!" He jumped back as a few landed dangerously close to him.

Peter looked around to make sure no one had seen that. When he was satisfied that he was alone, he resumed the walk towards his house.

But then, someone came out of the darkness.

"Shit, indeed," a voice said.

"Gaah!" He jumped again, this time away from the grey-haired woman who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

"Sorry! Sorry..." She said, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"And you think randomly appearing in the middle of a dark, empty street is going to help your case?!"

She paused thoughtfully, "I suppose that is true. Though Wanda was always the one who usually preferred the dramatic entrance..."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it drama- wait! What- who- do you mean by Wanda?"

"Well I'm talking about your sister, obviously."

Peter closed the distance between them and had the woman by the collar of her jacket before she was able to blink.

"And just what the _hell_ do you know about my sister," he growled.

"Not as much as I know about her in _this_ time," she said consciously. "But I definitely know enough to convince you of my identity."

Peter was about to say something. But then she hugged him.

She was quite short for a woman of her age. She had curly grey hair, and dark, shit-coloured eyes (as Nora would say.)

"It's good to see you again, _Pietro,"_ the woman murmured, French accent clear in her throat.

Peter's eyes widened as his hyper-intensive brain made the connection.

 _Lots of curly hair, spunky sense of humor… French accent, brown eyes, and mention of different times…_ All that plus knowing his _actual_ first name and Wanda's reclusive flair for the dramatic could only mean…

Peter slowly took a step back, forcing the older woman to let go of him.

"...Nora?"

She sniffed away the tears that threatened to break her strong-woman facade. Checking the simple watch she was wearing, Nora broke out in a small smile.

"Didn't take you very long… One minute, thirty-two seconds. Probably 'll take me twice that."

"What?" _This is insane,_ Peter thought. This was impossible; improbable. Why -and how- on earth would Nora come come back in time to see him. Nora from the _future?_

"I know this must be a lot for you to take in-"

"Yeah, yeah you got that right!" Peter tried to keep his breathing slow, calm and controlled. He was hunched over, hands on his knees.

"Just don't hyperventilate."

He started to hyperventilate.

"But," gasp. "Why are," gasp. "You here?" Gasp. "Did something," gasp. "Happen?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." Older Nora sat down on the sidewalk's curb, patting the spot next to her.

Peter hesitantly sat down next to her. He had slowed his breathing to only three gasps per minute.

"Peter… I am going to tell you some things," Nora said. "They're going to be difficult to hear. But please, just give me a minute to explain."

"I come from the future, Peter," she began. _"A_ future, to be precise. And-"

"-So there's more than one timeline?" Peter interrupted eagerly.

"Yes. Now please don't interrupt again," she chastised him like a small child.

Peter deflated a little, nodding his head.

"I come from the year 2017," she continued; _give or take a little._ "And in that time, a species… or _type_ of robots have taken over the Earth… They're called sentinels."

This seemed ridiculous. Like the plot of some crazy science-fiction movie. But even to Peter, who knew nothing of the AI's true terror, just hearing the name made him feel uneasy.

"They were made in a man's vision of good faith. They were created to target mutants, and protect humans. That was the initial intention."

 _And here must be where it gets_ really _bad,_ Peter thought.

"But eventually, the Sentinels surpassed all of their main protocols. They moved on from the mutants of the present and began to search for those of the future."

"What? Oh, wait: sorry. Gonna keep quiet now. No more… interruptions..." Peter covered his mouth with one hand, a sign for Nora to continue.

She smiled sadly, Peter -even the one she'd loved- had never been able to keep quiet for very long. "They began to identify the genes of those humans who would have mutant children… or even _grandchildren._ Soon, _everyone_ became a target."

She took a deep breath, "It didn't take long for the Sentinels to take control of the Earth. The government had made no binding restrictions against them you see, they were supposed to _protect_ people. Once the world governments had fallen, only a few were able to stay out of their grasp."

"People like you," Peter commented.

 _"Mutants_ like me," Nora said, her wrinkled forehead creased even more as her face morphed into a frown. "Mutants with exceptionally powerful abilities. -Or those who were just lucky enough to be part of the right group."

 _"Group?"_ He asked.

"The X-Men, the Brotherhood," Nora's voice trailed off. "There were others… But I do not know what became of them."

She was silent for a minute or two. The older Nora let what she'd just told him sink in.

Peter slowly got to his feet and began to pace back and forth. His silver hair glinted in the moonlight as he ran his fingers through it.

Nora remembered the day her hair had first started to turn grey. Her Peter had teased her relentlessly about it, saying that now they would match.

Oh how she wanted to run her fingers through his silver locks… Just to have that sensation one, last time. She could do it without him ever knowing. Just a quick snap of the-

 _No._ She reminded herself. _He is not the same Peter. Just as you are a different Nora._

They were both different versions of themselves in this timeline… she had made sure of that.

"But why come to me?" He asked eventually. "Why not go straight to yourself?"

Nora sighed, she wished it could be that way too. "Things never come that easy… I can't completely control my powers, remember, Peter?"

"But.. Then… How are you here?" He asked.

"A friend," she said simply. "He's an extremely powerful telepath who helped me over the years. With his assistance, I'm able to ground my mind so that I'm able to travel within the past century; for longer stints of time -if needed."

"Okay. But still… what do you need me for?"

"I need you to turn the Nora from this time in to the cops."

"What?!" He cried, outraged. "Why?!"

"Or rather, the Feds. Really just the highest form of government you can get to listen to you."

"Why the hell would I do that to Nora?!" Peter cried indignantly. "I _love_ her!"

"Oh Jesus," the elder Nora face-palmed. "I was afraid it would come to this."

"Come to what?" Peter questioned.

"Listen to me." She suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders and tugged down until they were nose to nose. "If Nora from _this_ timeline doesn't get sent to prison, she'll never be on a specific plane. And if she's never on that plane, then I won't meet up with her and then our sister will-" Nora stopped herself before she could say anymore.

She took a step back and gave him some space.

"How do you know all this?" Peter asked, "How do you know what needs to happen to… to Nora?"

She frowned, "Because I've already been there. To the possible future -to _many_ possible futures. And now I know, this is the one."

Peter then asked her a question that had been lingering on his mind since she'd told him she was from the future. "In the time you come from… In _your_ future… Am I dead?"

Nora gasped and put a hand to her mouth. She felt the tears well up in her eyes. She blinked them back, looking to the starry sky, then said. "Yes. You, and Wanda, and your Mom, and Brygit… Everyone you've ever known -everyone you ever _will_ know… will be dead."

The ferocity and terror with which she said it made Peter believe every word.

He did not say anything, only sighed in defeat. Nora the elder took this as agreement.

"Here," she handed him a file that seemed to appear out of nowhere. "Everything you need to convict me- convict _her_ is in here."

"What has she done that is so bad?" Peter asked apprehensively.

"A lot of things she hasn't told you.

His shoulders dropped, expression disappointed.

"More lies..." Peter flipped through the folder, eyes widening at the turn of each page.

"She lies because she is _afraid."_

"But _why?"_ Peter implored. "She thinks I'll judge her?"

"For killing people? Yes." Older Nora raised an eyebrow, waiting on his response.

"Oh… Well..." Peter began.

"Exactly," she said. "But if you follow through with this, I can promise you that everything will turn out alright."

Peter stared at her, "And exactly how long will that take?"

She smiled, eyes sparkling, "I expected you would ask that."

He crossed his arms. She sighed.

"It will take months. Maybe even a few years in the end," Older Nora said. "But I promise: the time you _will_ have with her will be worth it on both your parts."

Peter hung his head. One hour ago, if someone had asked him to do this, he would have thought they were on crack. He would never have agreed to do this. Not in a million lifetimes.

But it isn't every day that your time-raveling girlfriend's alternate/future self shows up spinning tales of death and destruction of giant, mutating robots eventually taking over the earth.

 _What have I gotten myself into?_ He wondered -and not for the last time.

"So do we have an agreement?" The elder Nora asked him.

Peter sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "You promise me that _everything_ you say is true?"

She nodded. "You, _Pietro,_ are the last person I would ever even _think_ of lying to."

She meant everything she said to him. Every, last, word.

 _._

 _._

 _._

 **Thoughts?**


	33. Chapter 31Chapter 33

**A/N: Alright so the hate towards Peter has gone down a _little bit?_ Hopefully that last chapter explained things for ya'll ;) I can't believe we're almost at 100 reviews! It seems crazy that it might actually hit that number in the next week!**

Anonymouscsifan: **Good, Wanda definitely needed to let some things out. SO glad things make sense to you now, and yeah, I know those thing were done in self-defense, but the Older Nora needed it to happen at all costs… so, yeah… And omg his reaction… That would be so great :D Thank you as always, I always feel like I say the same things over and over, but your reviews really mean a lot to me :)**

Sarah Lahey: **Yes! I created a plot twist that someone didn't expect! Thank you for your kind thoughts :)**

Adrillian1497: **Yeah… I know, cliff-hangers are the worst, and there will be more… Thank you for reading :D**

K.J. Bollinger: **Your. Mind. Is. Blown? *smiles evilly* Sweetness. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

 ***Caution, possible almost-spoilers ahead for this chapter* But if you're uncomfortable with darker subject matter, than I suggest you read it.**

 **And finally… this chapter contains some darker scenes. At least, I** _ **think**_ **they're a little dark. They include experimentation and attempted rape, just to give you a heads-up.**

Chapter 31/Chapter 33

 _The Pentagon. Cell Number 01._

In the moments following Nora's disappearance, Erik ran through all the possible outcomes in his head.

Within ten minutes, he had it narrowed down to one. His calculations were exact and precise -as always.

Those watching them on the security had no idea of what she could _really_ do. So when the teenage girl disappeared in the flash of golden light, people were a bit distraught.

But there were no bright red flashing lights, nor loud announcements of an 'escapee'. None of that happened, because no one could no about this.

The Pentagon went into silent mode, in a matter of speaking. All tours ended; offices closed on account of a possible gas leak.

All but a few were sent home to their families.

Those who stayed did so out of obligation and nervousness.

A runner was sent down to check the cell in person. And for a brief moment, everyone was able to think that there was a chance that they might be able to keep their jobs through all of this.

The nerve-wracking twenty-two minutes it took for the evacuation and check to be preformed, of course, ended in the disappointing confirmation that there was, _indeed,_ only _one_ prisoner occupying the cell.

Not even here for two months; then gone, just like that.

Prisoner zero-one: tall, male, dark-haired; was kept in the dark -quite literally, for the cel lights were turned off- for the next two and a half hours.

The director of the Pentagon had just been about to telephone the President to inform him of the matter, when prisoner zero-two reappeared in the cell.

A collective sigh of relief made its way through all of the employees present. A false alarm.

The strangest false alarm to ever occur in such a place.

The prisoners' cell was gassed immediately -a first-time use for the protocol- leaving them both unconscious.

Upon realizing zero-two's current state of undress, the only two female security guards in the building were sent to dress and retrieve the body.

The two inmates of the Pentagon were separated -and it was to be kept that way indefinitely.

Zero-one was to be kept inside his metal-less prison, returned to his lonely state.

Zero-two, on the other hand, was placed in constant darkness. Her new room was one that predated any and all records.

It was as if she had never existed.

.

.

.

"I promise you that I am well-taught in my knowledge of the human psyche. _And,_ I am sure that my family's generous donation will _more_ than compensate for the tools required."

The red-haired man was politely asked to leave the room. Following this, the two men in charge of zero-two's fate discussed how they were to go about this.

"You can't deny that his offer is good -more than good! George, we _need_ the money."

In truth, it was the Pentagon that need he money; and one such Doctor Jacob Cray was willing to provide such funds.

"I know, I know… But are you really prepared to give up the reigns to this… this spoiled brat!"

Obviously, neither of the men had very clear consciousnesses. Most things they did were done towards their benefit -no matter what the cost.

"Why should we care what happens to it? We're just holding it in the basement."

They didn't know -and frankly, didn't care- how long Nora was to be kept in the Pentagon's custody. Everything was fine, as long as they got paid.

"Have you even looked at the file, Mark? She's just a kid!"

Mark looked George dead in the eye," Actually, I _have_ looked at it. Read it even, imagine that! An' you know what I saw?… A _murderer._ A thief. A criminal… Something that doesn't belong in this world, yet somehow continues to exist!"

George scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Yes, but-"

"-Let me put this in words you'll hopefully be able to understand," Mark interrupted. "How would you feel if this person- no: this _thing_ was out there on the streets. Would you feel safe having this thing as your neighbour? Maybe even going to school with your children!"

The same, flawed argument that had been presented for the past decade, still, somehow made its way into their warped minds.

"Alright," George sighed. He was doing this for Jeanie, he told himself. So Jeanie can be safe. "Bring him back in."

Jacob Cray had been listening the whole time.

.

.

.

Nora awoke to darkness. She could not move; her arms and legs were tied down. The room was cold and pitch black.

She struggled against the restraints, but they would not budge.

Lying on top of something -a table, perhaps?- Nora felt as if there was a lot of space around her. The nothingness suggested she was in the centre of a room; the centre of attention.

She was clothed, though she knew not in what. It felt lighter, less clammy than her former prison jumpsuit.

 _Where am I?… What happened?_ These questions were ones that plagued every aspect of Nora's existence.

Erik. She remembered being stuck in that cell with him. The white room, terrible food, card games, cutting hair.

 _Oh no._ She had travelled.

It had been delayed this month, probably due to the change in food, sleeping patterns, and just her whole lifestyle in general. But now they must know -at least to some extent- what she was able to do.

She remembered what had happened in the bakery in pre-depression in New York.

Her future self. That goddamn woman and her goddamn mysteries.

 _June nineteenth?… Or was it the seventeenth…_ 1982\. She remembered that much. Nora was to bring someone -some girl- to Paris on that date.

Did she know about all this? That Nora was going to wake up yet _again_ in some strange, terrifying room?

She probably did… Fucking future selves.

A door suddenly slammed open, breaking Nora from her reverie; the room was flooded with light.

Soft footfalls; a flash of red hair and a white lab coat.

Out of nowhere, a face appeared directly above hers. Nora flinched at the unexpected increase in proximity. Their noses were almost touching.

His face was smoothed and unblemished; eyes bright and mischievous. Hair red as a rose.

Nora shrunk back as best she could, head retracting into her neck.

His eyes locked onto hers; she was unable to escape his penetrating gaze. He smelled neutral… like clean air. His breath was warm and moist against her cheek.

His face was beautiful… almost, childlike.

It terrified her.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his lips peeled back, revealing his perfectly straight and perfectly white teeth.

He grinned evilly, only urging on the sinking feeling in Nora's stomach.

Then, he moved away from her; out of sight.

She heard a few clicking noises, then the table she was strapped to began to move.

Like a hospital bed, it bent in half, rising until her body was pushed into a seated position.

She could see around her now. See the room she was in. There was not much else in it. A chair, a couple of tables, and a lamp situated overhead.

Nora could turn her head side to side, but she could not see behind her. The man rummaged through a bag for a few more moments before returning his attention to Nora.

"Now then, let's have some light, shall we?"

He flicked a switch, and the lamp let loose its yellow rays onto Nora. She winced in the sudden change of the darkness.

He put on a pair of spectacles. Their lenses reflected the light, making it seem as if his eyes were white.

Nora saw that she was wearing a white tank top and pants. For reasons unknown, they had let her keep her prison-issue glasses.

"How do I look?" He asked, gesturing to his specs.

 _What?_

"Mother always said that a man looks _most_ distinguished when wearing glasses." He nodded intently at her, urging on Nora's response.

"...Excuse me?" She asked. Nora was thoroughly confused.

His calm face suddenly morphed into one of distrust, then anger. "What do you mean 'excuse me'? Do these glasses make me look smart -or do they not? I asked you a question, girl; now answer it!"

Noticing how she had shrunk back due to his outburst, he sighed and removed the glasses. Rubbing his eyes, he said, "I'm sorry. That was uncouth of me. Perhaps I ought to introduce myself first."

"What?" Nora blurted out before she could stop herself.

She couldn't deny that knowing this man's name would be nice. Maybe along with some explanation as to why she was in this room.

He frowned and returned to his bag, rifling through it, he muttered to himself, "I don't recall them saying anything about you being deaf..."

"I'm not deaf," Nora said. _Just confused._

Instantaneously, he was back in her face. His eyes scoured across her features, leaving no part untouched. She gulped nervously as his gaze travelled downwards, taking in the rest of her.

One gloved hand cupped her chin, thumb circling her cheekbone. He poked and prodded her like a prized chicken, making small noises of confirmation all the while.

Their proximity made her very uncomfortable. Nora let out a long breath when he finally stepped back.

He made a small _hm-hm_ noise in the back of his throat as his gaze ran over her figure once more.

The manner in which he did is was not entirely pervasive, but obviously still unsettling.

He smiled again, eyes glinting in the light.

"Oh, yes," he said. "You'll do _just_ fine."

.

.

.

 _Three weeks later…_

"Scalpel."

Cray picked up the instrument and made a slow, deliberate cut through the numb flesh of Nora's foot. Numb, not from anesthesia, but from the pain.

"Tweezers," he said to himself, chuckling at the notion of there being _other_ people in this room.

There was no bustling team of nurses and surgeons around him. No one to get in the way. There was only him, Jacob Cray -with his five years of medical schooling- and the girl.

His subject. His muse. The beauty with the luscious, tumbling brown hair.

Mother was a brunette. Blondes never had more fun, she always said, than those with brown hair.

Brown hair that was currently matted and sweaty, plastered against her forehead. She was on her back again, arms and legs clasped to the table by metal cuffs. Her fingers clenched the sides, twitching with each pointed jab he made to her.

She kept her eyes closed, and mouth clamped shut. Her body barely shook with each cut or laceration he dealt upon her. She had little strength left to even writhe in pain.

Nora still cried, whimpered; even screamed, occasionally. The pain was great, the inhumane mutilation done to her person even worse.

She yelped, fresh tears pooling in her eyes as Cray extracted a piece of muscle tissue from the sole of her foot.

"Oh come now, my sweet," he crooned, quickly depositing the sample in a glass vial. "I thought we had agreed that your noises of discomfort were displeasing to my ears."

"We agreed on _nothing!"_ She growled. Perhaps the sixth time Nora had been unable to keep herself from speaking to him.

Hearing his muse speak, her voice a ray of sunlight, Cray whirled around and placed his face next to hers. His head bowed, eyes closed serenely, he said, "Why must you deprive me of your voice, my sweet? You know I adore it, excepting those pitiful noises you seem so fond of making."

Cray was indeed a hopeless, psychotic, romantic. His heart had been broken at the age of twenty. In despair, he threw himself into his studies. Years later, through Mother's social circles, he had heard of a mystery in the forgotten parts of the American government. Cray came here, to the Pentagon, searching for excitement and intrigue. Hidden creatures; those kept prisoner -away from the public eye.

He had found his new love. But she was confused; scared; a freak.

Her soul was dirtied; unclean. She was not human, and Mother would never approve of that.

She was one of them. The _mutants._

But he would make her whole. Cray would cure Nora of her impurities.

"Some cultures say that the abnormal's soul can be found through their foot," Cray said. He lifted her leg up, fingers running slowly down her scarred flesh. Scars that he had inflicted upon her, all in the course of 'curing' his beloved.

When he reached her foot, Cray took Nora's big toe and held it between his thumb and index finger.

Then he twisted it, yanking the toe until it was clearly disconnected from the rest of her.

Nora bit her tongue, hard, to keep from screaming. Teeth broke the bumpy pink flesh of her tongue, and more tears let loose upon her face.

Cray ran his lips up her cheek to her forehead, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "There we are… silent and pretty -as all women should be."

He returned to her foot, leaving the toe dislocated, but sewing up the deep incision he had made.

Cray left the room after that. A janitor wearing all white came in and cleaned up the blood. He was also the one responsible for taking Nora off the table and chaining her to the wall in the corner. From there, she was able to get to the pee bucket.

The room was locked during this time -as it always was- so even if she had had the energy to pause time -which she didn't- Nora would have no where to go.

She had gained both the memories of Cray and the Janitor, but Nora had not bothered to sort through them. Elaborate scenes flew in and out of her mind. Memories of birthdays, school graduations, a childhood pet and a broken heart. None were hers, and Nora was starting to have difficulty distinguishing which was which.

Nora knew she didn't have a mother -not one with brown hair. She had a sister -albeit a dead one- and was not an only child. Her dog's name was not Lucian. She had a cat named Mr. Mittens. She was thirty-two years old, born in Tennessee. -Or was it Maine? Her father had been an owner of a grocery store, he'd died two summers ago. She missed him.

She had lost her virginity at age eighteen, and had her heart broken by Jessica Milsom two years late-

"No!" Nora gasped. She was hunched forward, hands pressed over her ears. Her body shook from the terror of believing memories that weren't hers -even if for just a moment.

She tried to remember. To remember the truth. She was sixteen. Or had her birthday passed? What year was it…? 1939? She was a Catholic.. or maybe a Protestant? She had a husband named Gregory… and a secret lover named Lucille. She had travelled to Africa at the age of twenty-two, in order to study the characteristics of the apes. But then the Mongolians had attacked.

"What's happening to me…?" She whispered. _All of these things… I've never done them, yet I'm remembering them like I did…_

She needed to remember. She needed to convince herself of the truth.

 _"_ _My name is Nora,"_ she whispered to herself in french. _"I am seventeen years old. I was born in France in the fourteenth century. I am a time-traveler. I have killed people. Erinn… Christopher… Maria… Tom…_

 _"My name is Nora,"_ she started over. _"I am seventeen years old. I was born in France in the fourteenth century. I am a time-traveler. I have killed people. Erinn… Christopher… Maria… Tom… My name is Nora..."_

Slowly, bit by bit, she began to disappear.

.

.

.

 _Two weeks later…_

"I have a present for you, my sweet!" Cray announced happily.

Nora looked up from her book and smiled, "Oh! Whatever could it be?"

She stood up from the comfortable, velvet armchair. Smoothing out her long skirt, she went over to Jacob.

"I found this in the psychiatric archives," he said, retrieving the deadly-looking apparatus from the trunk of their convertible.

"Wow," Nora said, smiling happily. "Whatever it is, it looks ancient."

"Oh, yes: it _is_ quite old. But I'm sure it will work just fine," Cray agreed, his kind smile turning into an evil smirk.

 _Yes. I'm sure it will work just fine._

 _Sure… will work…_

 _work… just fine… Sure…_ His voice echoed inside Nora's head, each word repeating itself until the sounds had all but disappeared.

The beautiful house they were in seemed to be melting. The light, cream walls sank into the floor, replaced by the grey hues of the room. Their homely, colourful clothes: gone. Replaced by a lab coat and white pants and a tank-top stained with blood.

Gone was the false fantasy Nora had conjured up to rid herself of the terrible, terrible truth.

She was back on the table, her head held back by a leather restraint. She was gagged, to keep her from screaming too loud.

"This will only hurt for a moment, my sweet," he consoled, flicking on a series of switches. "And then, it will all be over."

Nora shook her head, pleading him to not go through with it. She tried to speak, to make any sound at all, but only a strangled gargling came out.

"Shock therapy has been proven quite effective in _many_ different circumstances," Cray said. "And I'm sure it will work for you. I found this machine in very good shape."

 _Electroshock therapy_ doesn't _work,_ she wanted to scream at him. _That's why it was made_ illegal!

"Only a few more moments, my sweet!" Cray cried, "And then we can be together!"

He turned one last knob, then picked up two rods with sponge wrapped around each of their ends. He positioned himself directly behind Nora's head. He stared down at her, smiling insanely. She kept her gaze fixated on the ceiling, eyes swimming with tears.

Their electric charges crackling, Cray touched the rods to either side of Nora's forehead.

.

.

.

"Would you like some tea, dear?" Jacob held out the cup to Nora. He was dressed in a suit and tie, his lab coat discarded on the floor.

Her mouth was open, jaw slack. Nora did not respond to his words in any way. She was still chained to the wall; still in the same, stinking room. Everything was hilariously out of place. Only now, she was dressed in a clean pair of slacks and a blouse.

Jacob frowned, it had been two weeks, and still she did not respond to his movements of affection. She never even looked at him, eyes always gazing to the ceiling.

For the first few days she had been quite loopy. But Jacob had expected her to recover from then on. Still, she was in a constant state of un-focus. Never talking, and rarely eating.

"Please say something to me," he implored to her. "I'll do anything for you -bring you anything!"

Her eyes, dead as they were, still looked straight through him.

"Say anything, please… Do anything… _Do something!"_ He cried, kicking the teacup across the cell.

Nora didn't even flinch at this.

The surgery table had been removed some days ago. Cray'd had all his samples relocated to another facility. His work was finished. The electroshock machine had been the last straw, but somehow, things had been made even worse!

"Goddamn it!" He screamed childishly, stomping his foot on the ground. "You were supposed to be the one!"

He un-cuffed her from the wall and dragged Nora up by the collar until they were nose to nose.

"Maybe I'm just going about it the wrong way, huh? Maybe we need to get a little more physical, since you can't seem to speak anymore."

He threw Nora across the room. Cray was stronger than he looked, Mother had always said to keep up appearances.

She flew weightlessly, like a rag doll, falling to the ground in a heap.

Cray kicked her side and Nora flopped over onto her back.

He grabbed her by the hair, shaking her head back and forth, screaming, "Do something!"

Her only response was a few, frightened blinks.

Nora was trapped on the inside. Her head felt like scrambled eggs. Or what she assumed scrambled eggs felt like if you grabbed a handful of some. She tried to resurface, to regain control over her body, but she couldn't.

Any movement she tried to make felt like she was swimming in half-melted marshmallows. She was only sucked down further.

When Cray climbed on top of her, she tried to push him off; but she couldn't. When he grabbed a fistful of her shirt, she tried to hit him, this time, only succeeding in lamely pawing at his arm.

She tried to speak, to scream, to make any kind of noise. All that came out was a gargled sound as Cray put one hand around her throat. The other pressed painfully hard against her hipbone.

 _I knew about this,_ she thought. _The future me knew this was going to happen, and that fucking bitch did nothing to stop it._

She struggled to breathe. He was choking her. Maybe, to death.

As darkness took over her vision, Nora heard the tinkling of a belt buckle being undone.

.

 **Alright, so since you've had enough cliffhangers, and this is a terrible subject to leave one on. I'll tell you this: Nora does not get raped.**


	34. Chapter 32Chapter 34

**A/N: Yeeee! Over 100 reviews! Thank you so much for all those kind (and frustrated ;) thoughts! I want to give each and every one of you a cupcake, except that's kind of impossible…. Anyways, here's a virtual one XD hands out cupcakes to wonderful people**

 **Jeez that was cheesy… But for real, seven months ago I DID NOT expect to get this far :D It's you guys who keep me going, and I really don't deserve it after all the continued cliff-hangers… I just seem to keep ending the chapters that way… It must be the TV junkie in me :(**

Anonymouscisfan: **Yeah Cray definitely has a few mommy issues… I based his character off of Dandy from American Horror Story: Freak Show, if you watch that show. And that's a good idea for Peter to kick the shit out of him sometime in the future...*ponders* The karma may not get those fuckers in the Pentagon** _ **just**_ **yet, but y** **eah: the guilt will hit Peter like a brick wall -I'll make sure of that. I'm glad that this story gives you a nice break from real life to look forward to ;) Sorry for all the cliff-hangers… :(**

emily88034: **Well I don't want to spoil anything… ;)**

Adrillian1497: **Well that's good that you love to hate them XD 'cause there's quite a few here! Happy that the tidbit at the end made you feel better :D**

K.J. Bollinger: **Thank you so much! And, well, Nora won't be** _ **too**_ **okay…**

C. : **So I got some of the heavy-shit-writing down? *fist pumps* yeass! And you make me blush *gushes* with all your kind words :D**

Enigmatic Rebel: **I think it's just a natural thing to hate cliff-hangers in general… Sorry, though… :(**

Chapter 32/Chapter 34

 _January 27th, 1973. Paris._

The world was in disarray, following the attack on the Paris Peace Accords.

Declaring this an ambush on their security, the Vietnamese emissaries all but retreated to their luxury hotel rooms.

"What the hell are we dealing with here?" President Nixon of the USA said. "Off the record."

The tape recorder was switched off as Secretary of Defense Minister Laird attempted to explain, "Two days ago: this man, Erik Lensherr -along with this girl, Nora- both escaped from a maximum security prison inside the Pentagon."

Two pictures containing the former inmates' mugshots were placed before the president. The girl looked to be asleep in hers, the president noticed.

"We believe that this woman is a former accomplice of Lensherr's," Laird said, talking of the blue-skinned woman who had shocked so many by her crashing through the window. "They were together in Cuba, on the day of the crisis in sixty-two. He was also implicated in Kennedy's assassination."

"What happened to the girl? And what about that thing?" Nixon asked, referring to the furry, blue beast being shown on the television screen.

An army general spoke up, "The girl has not been heard from since the escape. And we don't know what that thing is, sir. Actually, we really don't know what any of them are."

"Yes. Yes, we do." All those present turned and faced Doctor Bolivar Trask as he made his presence known.

 _"He_ has the power to control metal. Last I checked, that's what most of your weapons are made of." He gestured to the scaly, blue-skinned woman on the TV. "And she can transform into anyone. A general, a secret serviceman, even you, Mr. President. She could walk into this office and order a nuclear strike if she was 'in the mood.'"

His gaze fell upon the picture of Nora; he chuckled softly. "And her… Well: this _teenage girl_ is one most interesting person indeed. She is able, in some capacity, to travel through time." He chose not to mention her other, much more _useful_ ability.

"What?"

"Yes, Mr. President. She could make it so that you were never even _born. ..._ And that's just _three_ of them."

.

.

.

 _Three months previously…_

Lights flickered on. Bright, white lights.

Nora blinked, groggily awakening from unconsciousness.

She was in a different room. A _cleaner_ room. Sitting in a metal chair, in front of a metal table; hands cuffed to either side of the table's surface.

Her head lolled back, taking in her surroundings.

Four walls, one security camera, a door and a large mirror.

That 'mirror' was obviously a one-way glass. Someone must be watching her, either through that or the camera.

Nora was back in her tank top and pants. No shoes, yet her glasses still remained perched on her nose.

Her throat hurt every time she took a breath. It was undoubtedly bruised from when Cray had choked her.

 _Cray._ She remembered his child-like face slipping in and out of focus. He was going to rape her. Had he succeeded in doing so? She couldn't remember. Nora had thankfully fallen unconscious before anything else had happened.

But now, a terrible uncertainty fell over her. The uncertainty. The not-knowing of what had happened to her. Of what had occurred.

This was the most sensible thought she'd been able to make in weeks. Following the electroshock, Nora had retreated into the deepest, darkest areas of her mind, only coming out to preform the most basic human necessities.

Eating. Sleeping. Shitting.

Even now she found herself tired after so much brain activity.

Nora was not sure if she was able to talk. She hadn't had anyone worth talking to for the past month and a half.

Through all the cuts, all the extractions Cray had preformed on her, Nora had barely spoken. Shouted, screamed, cried, yes. But she had not said more than a few words.

And now, when she was faced with someone who seemed to be of a sound mind, Nora found herself unable to speak.

"Hello," the man said, staring at her intently. "My name is Bolivar Trask."

Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but only a soft rasping escaped.

The short man frowned, eyeing her bruised throat, "Would you like me to get you a paper and pen?"

She made a ' _really?'_ gesture with both of her hands still cuffed to the table.

He nodded solemnly, "Of course."

Bolivar Trask -Nora put that name to memory- left the room. He returned a minute later,

with a pen, paper, and an armed guard.

"They'll un-cuff your left hand," Trask explained as the guard moved to Nora's left side. "I am told that you are right-handed. So that should keep us on the same page."

 _A classic example of prisoner-pacification,_ Nora thought. _Prisoner-pacification; noun; verb. An act that seems necessary and completely probable towards someone in custody. But is really used to gain their trust._

Nora was ambidextrous, but they obviously didn't know that.

She flexed her fingers and rotated her free hand. The guard returned to the door and Trask cleared his throat.

"Young lady, I must apologize on behalf of the Pentagon for what was nearly done to your person-" He stopped as she began to scribble something down on the paper.

After a moment, she held it up, face calm but grim.

 _So, I was not raped?_ She wanted to laugh at the thought that a simple _apology_ from a third party could soothe what had been done to her.

Trask raised an eyebrow, then remembered that she had been found unconscious at the scene.

"No. We thankfully intervened before Doctor Cray," she flinched visibly at the sound of his name, "Was able to go through with it."

She nodded, hand unconsciously reaching to gently press against her bruised throat.

Trask made mental notes of all her reactions.

She fidgeted in his presence, but not nervously. She seemed to adjust her glasses with her free hand out of habit. And she clearly flinched at the mention of the disgraced Doctor Cray's name.

Nora held up the paper again. This time it read, _What now?_

Trask sighed, "You are to be returned to your _single_ cell. And from there, it's out of my hands."

Her shoulders sagged.

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, pausing for effect. "Unless… you were to come and work with me."

Nora's head jerked up, _Now just what was he getting at?_

"I am very interested in the psychological development of you kind," Trask went on to explain. "Of mutants. I am an admirer, of sorts, of what you can do… It's amazing; an anomaly, really."

Nora zoned out after that. He was lying, but then he wasn't lying. He believed what he

was saying… But that wasn't all there was to this…

As Trask droned on about all the benefits that would come with working for him -better living conditions, food, et cetera- all of course while still being a prisoner! Nora let her mind wander.

To _him._ To Wanda. To Erik.

Nora had not touched Magda. The woman deserved her privacy -they all did. But knowing the fact that Wanda's and _his_ father had been able to control metal, _and_ had been sent to prison for killing an unnamed 'important political figure' made Nora ninety-nine percent sure that Erik was the twins' father and Magda's former beau.

All she needed now was some verbal confirmation.

But going back to Silver Spring, to talk to Magda -where _he_ would most certainly be present- was about just as likely as Nora ever seeing Erik again.

She didn't want to go back there -but then again, she kind of did. _If_ she did, Nora knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself from doing him some serious damage.

Nora didn't know how long she would be kept out of the real world. But she had a feeling it wouldn't take long for her to be forgotten.

So maybe she would do something to make her remembered.

"I'll do it," she attempted to say, but it came out as a cough. She cleared her throat, eyes meeting Trask's, her voice came out clearer this time -though still quite raspy.

"I'll do it."

He was a little taken aback by her sudden agreement. But they shook hands nonetheless.

And what Trask had yet to discover, was that she had just been made witness to everything that had ever happened to him.

.

.

.

 _Stupid. Shorty. Freak. Retard._

Their words stung Bolivar like knives. Each more powerful than the last.

The bullies shoved him around their circle. Their hands pushed him back and forth, their voices relentlessly teasing him for his hair, his looks, his height.

"What kind of name is _Bolivar_ anyways?"

"Were you _born_ this short -have you grown at _all_ since you were a _bay-bee?"_ They taunted him.

After one particularly hard shove, Bolivar found his face buried in the sand of the playground.

He couldn't remember the last time recess had been fun.

"Your mom must've been a drinker for you to turn out like this, huh, freak?"

"Yeah, I bet she was a drunk!"

Sniffling back tears, Bolivar tried to get to his feet, but was swiftly pushed back down by a foot to the back.

"Was your mommy a drunk, Trask? I'll bet she was! Probably why your Dad left; took one look at you an-"

"Leave him _alone."_

The three bullies slowly turned to face Bolivar's defender. Seeing that it was only a gangly, blond-haired girl: they laughed.

"What do you want?" The leader stared down at her, like she was a bug.

"I want you to stop," she demanded. Hands on her hips, she stared right back at him, eyebrows raised defiantly.

"Stop what?" The leader sneered.

"Stop _teasing_ him, stop _hurting_ him. He's done _nothing_ to deserve it!"

"Hahahahaha!" The leader laughed to disguise the nervousness in his voice. He didn't recognize this girl. Before today, he'd never seen her; and yet here she was, standing up to him like she had some power over this playground.

"And just why should I listen to-" He started to say, but was stopped as she punched him in the nose.

"Gaah!" He reeled back, blood gushing down his jaw.

Proudly, she stood, and gave the other two lackeys a look.

They stood their ground, surprisingly, despite their leader's injured state.

She sighed, nonchalantly cracking her knuckles. "I hoped it would come to this."

She held one hand out, fingers coaxing them forwards. Just as they were about to advance, a ball of fire sputtered to light above her outstretched palm.

Their eyes widened, their lips trembled.

She grinned, her eyes seemed to glow red and fire burst from the back of her throat.

 _"_ _Run,"_ she growled, spitting a tiny flame in their direction.

That was all it took to send them scrambling.

After she looked around to make sure no teachers had seen it, she clamped her hand shut, extinguishing the flame. Then she laughed, a jovial, almost barking noise.

Bolivar slowly got to his feet. He stared at his defender; curious, and scared.

Seeing his fear, her expression morphed into one of sympathy. "Are you alright? I'm sorry if the fire scared you; I _can_ control it… most of the time."

He pointed at her, hand shaking, "How- How were you able to do that?"

She shrugged, "I dunno; it's just always been there." She frowned, "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Bolivar shook his head quickly. It's not like anyone would believe him. No one would believe his _or_ the bullies stories of a girl who could make fire from nothing.

The smile returned to her face, "Good! Anyways, my name's Susan. What's yours?" She stuck out her hand for Bolivar to shake. A formal gesture, seldom used by children, he thought.

He muttered something under his breath. She craned her neck, but couldn't hear him.

"Sorry? What was that? I can't hear you when you're mumbling."

"You're on fire," he said, eyes wide.

"Oh!" She patted her arm down until the flames were extinguished. There were no burn marks, and she acted like being on fire was a common occurrence.

"So, what's your name?"

He looked down, anticipating the jokes and jibes that came along with it. "My name's Bolivar."

Susan nodded, it was definitely an unusual name -but not anything she could judge him for.

"I'm new here and I don't have any friends," she stated, completely side-stepping the question of the names. "Would you like to be my friend, Bolivar?"

.

.

.

"Susan," Nora murmured in her sleep.

Trask jerked up from his clipboard. Eyes narrowed, he inspected Nora's vital signs.

All looked normal. Could her saying his childhood friend's name be a coincidence?

"Susan," she muttered again, rolling over in her cot. "You're the reason he's like this..."

 _No,_ Trask decided. It was most definitely _not_ a coincidence.

.

.

.

"Come on! We're going to be late!"

Bolivar, age sixteen, struggled to keep up with his now-long-legged friend. "Why should I care if we're late?" He groaned. "I'm acing the test either way!"

Susan rolled her green eyes, tossing some blond hair over one shoulder, _"You_ may be the genius here, B, but _I'm_ going to need all the time I'm given!"

Bolivar laughed, then slowed his pace to a brisk walk. His eyes widened, "Susan, you're on fire again."

"What? Where?" She asked, carelessly stepping onto the street.

Bolivar pointed to her jacket, mind already moving on to the intricacies of their impending physics test.

So occupied both of them were, that neither noticed the school bus coming round the corner -already hurtling twenty miles past the limit.

It was over capacity in its number of passengers -all ages seven to ten- and the driver was so distracted by the ruckus they were making he didn't notice the girl in the middle of the street.

His shoe had become untied, Bolivar noticed. He knelt down to address the problem.

His head bent, all he heard was Susan's scream as the bus made contact.

Hands held out in front of her, the _whoosh_ of over 1,500 degrees fahrenheit of heat consumed the fuel tank as the bus hit Susan.

It was a defensive mechanism of hers, and a most dangerous one at that.

The explosion was instantaneous, throwing Bolivar back fifteen feet -and killing nearly everyone else.

The driver, a young school teacher, over twenty school children, and one teenage girl. All dead -just like that.

Waking up in the hospital six days later, Bolivar decided that people with powers needed to be helped and controlled -for their sakes just as well as everyone else's.

.

.

.

 _How could she know. How could she know, how could she know. -HOW COULD SHE KNOW!_

Trask didn't understand. There were no known records that stated _any_ kind of telepathic abilities.

Then again, those working for the Pentagon had had no idea that she could teleport. If teleportation was all there was to Nora's abilities…

"And how are _you_ today, Trask?" Nora asked cheerily.

"That's _Doctor_ Trask to you." He entered her cell, carefully placing the stool on the floor.

"Oooohh; someone's in a bad mood today!"

Her mood swings and jaunty sense of humor were all so reminiscent of Susan.

Oh, Susan. He had thought of her -more often than usual.

Seven years of friendship; twenty-five lives! All ended because of some loud-mouthed children and a mutant's inability to control her _highly_ destructive powers.

Trask brought out his handheld mutant detection device, switching it on. Four red bars immediately popped up.

Nora winced at the incessant beeping. Though she already knew, she asked him, "What is that?"

"Another one of my inventions," he stated cooly. "I use it to determine whether or not someone is a mutant."

Nora cocked her head, "So is there, like, a bigger one in your Sentinels?"

Trask's eyes widened. He leaned forwards just a bit on his stool. She seemed so innocent, so calmly insane behind those brown eyes -yet he knew that all _had_ to be a cover.

And she knew about the Sentinels too. That wasn't good.

Trask got up from his stool and took a cautious step towards her. "How do you know about that?"

"You mean the Sentinels?" Nora wasn't restrained in any way. There was no sense in that, seeing that there was a glass wall separating the two of them. "Oh, I've known about them since the day we first met. I know about _everything."_ Her faultless smile dissolved into a smirk.

"How?" He questioned. "You aren't a telepath."

"-No," Nora interjected, shrugging her shoulders carelessly. "I can't 'read' your mind. But knowing things about people… Well, let's just say it's one of my many gifts..." She made little quotation gestures when she said 'gifts'.

"I see," Trask said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"No," Nora shook her head. "You _don't_ see. You _don't understand."_ Her head reared back and she laughed. "For once in your life, _Bolivar Martin Trask,_ you are unable to read someone."

"-How do you-" He began, but she kept going.

"And you know what I think?" Nora said.

He stepped back and gestured for her to continue.

"Actually: you know what I _know?_ I _know_ that you're _scared._ I. A teenage, _mutant,_ whom you are not able to read. _I_ scare _you!"_

Angered, Trask got up and left, leaving Nora to her laughter.

It was only after the second of her anesthetized surgeries that Trask deduced that her other ability had something to do with the sense of touch.

Only he and his two attendants -as far as Trask knew- had come in contact with the girl.

He had suspected that Mitch was gay, but had not expected it to be confirmed by a bushy-haired, be-spectacled teen.

After this, Trask had someone watching her over the cameras at all times -even when she slept. He reviewed the tapes himself, and the findings were just as enlightening.

She talked in her sleep, speaking of things that only he and his attendants would know _-should know._

And Trask thought it was just a reoccurring glitch in the tape, but Nora's image would seem to grow quite fuzzy at times.

He brushed it off as a technical error, never suspecting that Nora was phasing back in time in her sleep.

Waking up some days (at least, she thought it was days) later, Nora found herself back in the interrorgation-esque room.

Something that happens _far_ too often for it to still be considered a plot point, she thought to herself.

The door burst open without any warning. She did not flinch -Nora had grown used to it.

A man in a trim black suit walked in, accompanied by three others. The door closed and locked behind them. Nora paid no attention to the three others. She only grimaced at Mitch -or was it Larry?

Either way, she was truly sorry for blabbing about him being gay a while back. (In her defense, she had been on a serious dosage of pain meds.) She knew Trask wasn't a discriminatory employer -at least when it came to humans- but Mitch wasn't comfortable with him knowing.

 _Too late now, I guess._

He obviously hadn't forgotten about it, she guessed, judging by his pensive glare. But he still had his job -that's a good sign!

"Where's Bolivar?" Nora asked pleasantly.

"Not here today. Busy with other projects," Mitch stated curtly.

"So you mean he's watching us, then?" Nora raised an eyebrow and smiled for one of the cameras.

Mitch sighed, "Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

The sole woman accompanying him came to Nora's side and unlocked one of her handcuffs.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you, honey," Nora wagged a free finger at her. "Haven't you heard? I'm a _dangerous_ killer!"

The woman blinked at this, but otherwise, her expression remained neutral.

"Impressive. Is that what they teach you in bodyguard school?" Nora quipped. "I'm just curious 'cause I've always -hey! What're you doing?"

The woman had strapped some kind of glove-like apparatus onto Nora's hand. It was made of leather and steel and it clamped down on Nora's fingers like a vice.

"We're inhibiting the use of your abilities," Mitch said calmly as another attendant began to work on Nora's left hand. "You do use them by snapping your fingers, correct?"

Nora's eyes widened, and she shook her head.

 _No… Why… How was this happening? I_ need _to stop time… helps me… get through the day… speed_ _s_ _things up…_

"Ow!" She cried out.

"That'll be the stretching mechanism," Mitch said, revenge clearly evident on his face.

The gloves wrapped around her hands had five metal appendages sticking out, one for each finger and thumb. The metal molded itself to each digit, straightening them out until she could no longer move her hands.

Nora held her hands out in front of her. They were shaking from the strain.

"And now, to test Doctor Trask's theory."

Mitch motioned towards Nora, and the third man in the room stepped forwards. He placed his hand on Nora's bare arm.

Her shoulders shook as thirty-four years worth of experiences and memories were pushed into her head.

The other two did the same. Mitch just stood in the corner, noting things down on a clipboard.

The terrible trio was asked to leave, and then Nora was questioned.

Birthdates, social security numbers, home addresses, mothers' maiden names, you name it.

Nora rattled them off in an un-orderly fashion, Mitch checking each one off his list.

She had never absorbed so much at once. Nora was practically high off this feeling; the illustrious, whirling sensation it gave her.

There was pain too, of course, and in no small amount.

But Nora relished the pain.

Over the next few days -Nora assumed it was days- they came, one after the other. An unending cycle.

Touch, assess, report, rewind.

Some causes were worthy -in a sense- like a World War One veteran. Nora described, in excruciating detail, what he was unable to -due to his PTSD.

She hoped the information provided would be used in good ways towards programs meant to rehabilitate former servicemen and women.

Other times, Nora was forced to relive the actions of accused murderers and spies that were on trial.

People and their lawyers apparently paid big money to have her clear -or condemn- them.

It was as if she was some kind of black market truth-teller. People who needed information extracted from someone came to Trask, and he used them as test subjects on Nora.

At first, she was able to control it. At first, Nora could suppress most of the memories.

But around number fifty, it became psychological torture for her.

.

.

.

 _Shit, shit, fuck, shit,_ "Shit!" Max cried.

He had missed the bus. He would be late for the interview: his last chance at getting a job.

Last chance at getting the money for Lucas' university fund.

He had failed him. He had failed his son -like Max always had.

.

"Happy Birthday, Beatrice!"

The small, blonde girl blew out all her candles in one, strong puff.

"Yaay!" Her parents and all her friends clapped and cheered for her.

"What did you wish for?" Asked her father.

.

"We're losing him!" The beeping that indicated the patient's heartbeat had risen well above a safe rate.

"Nurse! Nurse? Where is that bloody woman?!"

The doctor got his apprentice to press down on the patient's chest while he hurriedly called for assistance.

.

"You are _not_ going to the concert, and that is _final."_

"But _Mom!"_ The girl stomped her foot angrily.

"Not 'buts'! You aren't going! Tell her dear."

Both mother and daughter turned to the 'man of the house.' He raised his hands in surrender, "Keep me out of this."

Daisy huffed in frustration before running up the stairs. Nothing was going to stop her from going to this show. Nothing would stop her from seeing her girlfriend.

.

Another explosion rocked the ground. Paul stayed curled up in his trench, hands pressed over his ears.

The falling shells shook his entire body with each impact.

What remained of his friend's body was crushed just ten feet away from him.

He could not move, lest he be shot at by the enemy. So he stayed there, lying in the rain, and the dirt, and the filth.

.

The happiest day of his life… Had been ruined by the appearance of his brother. Why had he come here? ...After all this time; just to ruin his wedding day.

.

Claire jumped from one side of the river to the other, just making it across before she fell backwards into the cold water. Her 'friends' all laughed at her, pointing, scorning.

She hated them. She didn't know why she'd agreed to come on this camping trip in the first place.

.

The young girl trembled before the woman. Her clothes were stained with blood and the remnants of human filth.

"Please," she begged. "Please, just let me go."

She tried to crawl away from Sandy, but cried out in pain as her leg was stomped down upon.

Sandy knelt down in front of her latest victim. She frowned as the girl burst into tears. Brushing aside some of the girl's hair, she put a single finger against her lips.

"Shhh… It will be alright now."

.

.

.

"Please. Let me be. I'll be fine -she's in no state to fight back now."

Trask brushed off the guards' warnings and entered the room.

Scratch marks scoured the walls, as well as Nora's body. Blood was crusted under her fingernails, and dripped from the torn stitches on her leg.

Her shoulder-length hair stuck out in all directions. Her dark pupils seemed to shrink when they became aware of his presence.

Nora was on her back. Head pressed into the floor, she tilted her head back at an impossible angle to stare at him.

As he looked closer at some of the scratches on the wall, Trask saw that some of them were lined with blood.

He let none of this faze him, including the words she spoke next.

 _"_ _You..."_ Nora growled. _"You_ did this to me."

"In the effort of scientific advancement," Trask stated calmly. "One becomes capable of all sorts of things."

"You're a monster!" She cried.

"You will be given new clothes," he said. "And you will be transferred to another cell."

"You're _insane!_ You'll kill us all with those _things_ you're building!"

"The gauntlets will stay put," he explained, gesturing to the gloves that kept Nora from accessing her time-manipulation abilities. "-Until the Pentagon sees fit to remove them, of course."

He turned to leave, but was stopped by her tortured cries.

"I _hate you!"_ She screamed, voice cracking. "You're crazy! And I.. I'm… I'm gonna go back and make it so that you're never even _born!"_

"I look forward to it," Trask drawled. Then, he uttered a phrase which he himself thought was pointless and incorrect, but had been instructed to say nonetheless.

"Your country thanks you for your service, Nora."

He shut his ears as she gave way to wrenching, uncontrollable sobs.


	35. Chapter 33Chapter35

**A/N: What's up! In this chapter, we get a bit of a recap of what a few of the characters have been doing all this time, as well as the tie-in (finally!) to DoFP!**

Anonymouscsifan: **Yep. All those fuckers at the Pentagon are basically composed of shit. And her Pentagon torture won't be continued for too long; it'll be over by next chapter, I promise :) And yes, I am thinking of continuing this into Apocalypse. Though I was a little disappointed by the movie… I still have plans for a sequel (I'm just not sure when I'll write it! ;)**

C.B. Weasley: **Oh my goodness you are so kind! :D I'm so happy/sorry(?) that you are obsessed with this story! And thx :3 *blushes***

K.J. Bollinger: **Thank you! :)**

Guest: **Yeah, Peter won't get off** _ **too**_ **easy (At least when I write it I hope ya'll think that…)** **Thank you for reading this!**

.Princess: **Yep. I'm a terrible person for putting her through all this… But it's (kind of) almost over…** **Thank you for reading my story :)**

 **Disclaimer: _I_ obviously don't own X-Men.**

 **Also: sorry for the shortness of this chapter... I promise the next one will be longer :)**

Chapter 33/Chapter 35

 _China, 2022._

The people in the temple spoke in loud voices. Their faces and demeanors weathered from years in this unbeatable war, they discussed a plan to change things.

"You want to go back there," Kitty Pryde concluded.

"If I can get her to stop the assassination..." Charles Xavier mused. "Keep her out of their hands… then we can stop the Sentinels from ever being born."

Standing at his friend's side, Magneto crossed his arms, "And end this war before it ever begins."

Kitty went on to explain that it would be impossible to send someone _that_ far back. Even for the Professor's great mind, the mental strain would break him.

After this became clear, everyone silently wished that their favourite be-spectacled time-traveler was still with them.

Charles suddenly perked up, detecting a mind he hadn't come across in over five years.

"My god it's good to see you people again."

Everyone except Charles jumped and turned to face the owner of the voice.

Logan smiled, Erik barely able to contain his own.

Her hair was white now, face lined with age. She wore clothes that obviously weren't hers -probably found in some abandoned corner of the monastery. But there was no denying who was _really_ standing there.

"Nora," Charles breathed. They were saved.

She staggered towards them, arm clasped tightly around her abdomen.

Erik held out his hand as she reached him, and the woman promptly collapsed into his arms.

 _"Hallo, Erik,"_ she said in his native tongue.

That's when he noticed the blood staining her shirt.

She looked up to him, slowly moving her hand to reveal the nasty-looking gash that had been scoured across her stomach.

Charles didn't need to read her mind -guarded as it always was- to know that things wouldn't be changing very much, even _if_ their primary time-traveler had returned.

"You're dying," Logan said, being no stranger to the concept.

She nodded, each movement slow and tedious.

Bobby ran over and knelt down next to her. He was about to freeze the wound when she stopped him.

"Don't bother," she said.

"Are you sure?" He asked, "It will help with the pain."

"I'm sure."

She had Erik prop her up against a wall, like a broom; and then she spoke.

"I've been to the past -obviously. 'Cause that's what I do," she said sarcastically. "And… well: things happened."

"What did you see," Storm said, urging her on.

"A lot of things," Nora said. "Most of them were quite terrible." Everyone's shoulders sagged at this. _"But…_ there was some good amongst it all."

Charles tried to look into her mind. Her head jerked up and she stared directly at him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I'm afraid it's gotten even worse than before..."

He hovered over to her, "You should have stayed. We could have helped you..."

She smiled wryly, eyes glistening with tears. "Oh, come on, Chuck. You _know_ there was nothing else that could've been done."

Erik sighed, frustrated. She'd always believed that she had been beyond help -unworthy of it, even.

"There's another timeline," Nora said. "One where none of _this_ ever happens." She took a deep, shaky breath. "I couldn't do it all… even with your help, Charles… Your guidance managed to keep me in the same century. But sometimes… sometimes… it just got to be too… too much..."

"You did all you could," Charles consoled.

She blearily shook her head, "No… no, I didn't."

She looked at Logan then, eyes narrowing. He had barely said a word. This whole time; he just stared at the ground, deep in thought.

He was thinking about it, Nora already knew. Her job was done, the seeds of thought, planted.

"I don't have long," she murmured. "Blink." The Asian woman looked up sharply. "What's the farthest you can 'port me?"

She cocked her head, asking an unspoken question.

"My mutant signature 'll go on for a little longer. It'll draw the Sentinels away-"

"What you're asking us to do!-" Storm said, outraged.

"Goddamn it, Ororo! In a few minutes I'll just be another dead body! It will draw the Sentinels away from you all -even if just for a few more minutes..." Her voice trailed off as she dissolved into a series of hacking coughs.

Magneto nodded. He picked Nora up. Cradling her close, he walked them outside. He looked like he wanted to ask her something, but she beat him to it.

"And yes..." She murmured to him. "In the other time… they _are_ alive..."

A few minutes later, when Blink had transported the body some couple hundred kilometers away, and most everyone had dried their eyes, Logan spoke for the second time in a half hour.

"What if someone's mind has a way of snapping back?" He asked. "What if someone can heal as fast as they're ripped apart?"

.

.

.

 _Weschester, New York. January 25th, 1973._

"We don't have any resources to get us in," Hank said.

"Or out," Charles chimed in. "It's just me and Hank."

Logan had a sudden thought. Of a young couple… torn apart by war and time.

"I know a guy," he said. "Yeah, he'd be a young man now. Grew up outside of DC..."

"And why would he help some random man that just shows up on his doorstep?" Charles asked.

"Oh, he'll help us," Logan chuckled. "'I have the prefect leverage."

.

.

.

 _Silver Spring, Maryland._

"We need your help, Peter," Logan said.

"For what?" Peter droned, eyes flicking back and forth on his game of pong.

"To break into a highly secured facility.. and to get someone out."

"Prison break? That's illegal, you know."

Peter couldn't deny the thrill just the thought of this gave him. Someone _asking_ him to break into somewhere? That was practically unheard of!

"Um..." The tallest of the three looked around at all of the things he had obviously stolen. The other two followed suit."Well only if you get caught."

Peter's head fell. He blinked slowly, letting his gaze rest on the ground.

Sure, this sounded like the best thing ever. But would Nora want you to do this?

Stealing is different from breaking someone out of prison, he told himself. You have to say no.

"Sorry," he stood up abruptly. "Can't help you."

The shorter one and the guy with the glasses both looked disappointed. But the tall one only raised an eyebrow.

"I'm impressed, kid. She must've really done a number on you to make 'ya turn down an offer like this."

Peter stared straight at the man. He didn't have any ID on him; Peter didn't recognize him.

He stepped forwards slowly, brows furrowing. Hank and Charles stood their ground, but looked him up and down warily.

His entire demeanor had changed, they noticed, as he glared Logan down.

"What..." He said, struggling to keep his voice controlled. "Do you mean… by _that?"_

Logan pulled a brown folder out of his jacket, one that Peter had missed, and placed it on the surface of the ping-pong table. He opened it to reveal a couple of note pages full of writing, as well as a picture of a girl with long brown hair.

Peter stepped back, his face pale. He shook his head. _No… No… That's not possible…_

"Hold on," Charles said, stepping in. "What's going on here?"

Logan smirked, giving the kid a look. He was probably freaking out right now, but Logan knew that he had him hooked. "What's going on, Chuck, is that he's had a change of heart."

.

 _Two minutes earlier…_

"Leave me alone, Brygit..." Wanda groaned, flopping over on her bed. "Go bother Peter, or somethin'."

"I can't!" Her sibling's muffled voice came from outside the door. "He's talking with people!"

"Cops, again?" Wanda sighed. He'd gotten worse over the past six months. Always stealing, sometimes _letting_ himself get caught.

 _Just for the hell of it,_ he would say.

 _Bullshit,_ she would always retort.

Wanda had moved out of her and Brygit's shared room months ago. Now, she slept in the attic. The eight-year-old had been delighted to have all the space to herself, and for Wanda, a single room meant privacy.

Privacy: something she had used to her advantage.

Papers were taped up across all of the attic's sloped ceilings. Building plans, newspaper articles, stolen files from semi-secret government bases.

While her mom thought she was going out partying all those weekends, Wanda was really breaking into government facilities. (Either way, Magda would've disapproved.) She had been trying to find something -anything- relating to Nora's disappearance.

Those she met were left dazed, confused, and with little recollection of the scarlet woman who had terrorized them.

 _Scarlet Woman,_ Wanda thought absentmindedly, tossing a ball of red energy above her head. _Doesn't sound quite right… more like… Scarlet Wit-_

"Sissy!" Brygit cried, banging on the trap door again. "He's leaving with them now!"

"Gaah!" Wanda got up and yanked the door open, "Why should I care?!"

Brygit stared up at her meekly through the hole in the floor, then, she scampered away.

Wanda hung her head. It seemed like she was driving everyone away.

.

.

.

 _The Pentagon._

Erik lay in his cell. He was alone, as he had been for the past six months.

He tried not to dwell on Nora. If he thought of her too much, of the time he'd had a friend, it gave him hope.

And hope was a dangerous thing.

It was almost time for lunch now, he thought. _I wonder what shit they've conjured up today._

A few minutes later he felt the customary nudge of a food packet. He opened his eyes and sat up slowly.

The guard stood up above his window. Was he… smirking?

 _Asshole,_ Erik thought.

He seemed new; too young to be working in a place like this.

Then, Erik noticed the note.

 _Mind the glass,_ it read.

He looked up, confused, thinking: _What the hell?_

 _._

 _._

Nora was awake -for once.

She lay on her back, feet pedaling through the empty air above her.

She was not in her padded cell, nor anywhere near the Pentagon.

She was bicycling through the quiet streets of her hometown, New Plymouth. The day was coming to a close, almost everyone retired to their homes.

Everything was so serene and peaceful… and _free._

 _Freedom._ Something she hadn't been able to grasp onto for many months.

Nora let her legs rest on the floor. Eyes kept shut, she swathed herself in blankets.

Here, amongst the sheets... Here she felt safe.

 _What_ is _freedom?_ She thought.

Sounds like a question on some SAT final.

You had to choose whether to go poetic or realistic with your answer.

Freedom is clean air, an empty sky; an open road.

Or… Freedom is a right. A moral complex imbedded in every human being… Whether or not they choose to use it is up to them.

What does freedom taste like? Feel like…

America called itself the 'land of the free.' Where anyone could make their way. (As long as you were white, straight, and born male.) Comparatively, it was true. Compared to other countries, America was a paradise.

But once you got used to it, once you saw past the true face of the country, it was just like everything else.

In the months since Trask's leaving, Nora had all but gone into a coma.

She usually slept for periods of about twelve to sixteen hours. She rarely ate, only picking at the food the sent for her.

Even when she _was_ awake, Nora spent most of her time with her eyes closed. She stayed in her head, where no one could touch her.

Her hair had grown since Erik had cut it. She combed through it with her fingers, sometimes picking at it for hours.

And her fingers… Trask had left the braces on them. Those evil gauntlets… Stretching, pulling, hurting.

She had not paused time in what felt like forever. It had felt so long ago… Nora wasn't even sure if she was able to do it anymore.

She held her hand above her head, fingers perpetually splayed.

They did not move. Sometimes, they would collapse into uncontrollable spasms, and Nora would be curled up for minutes, clutching her fingers to her chest.

She went into the memories of someone else. Swimming with dolphins. Twirling, spinning, floating around with them through the salty Hawaiian waters.

Nora stayed there for a while; just floating in the water. The dolphins had gone off, and now she was alone.

She slid under the surface, propelling herself down, down, down, past any source of light.

Nora was surrounded by the dark blue of the ocean, unable to breathe, or think.

Her lungs struggled for air, threatening to burst.

But they didn't.

They didn't, because she knew this wasn't real. None of this was.

Nora then noticed the beeping in the back of her head.

She resurfaced to reality, slowly opening her eyes, and discovered that the beeping was actually a loud, angry alarm.

It blared, over and over, as if announcing something.

This is the first time something like this has ever happened, Nora noted.

Her eyes fell upon what used to be the door to her cell. Weeks ago, it had been soldered shut. All of her food and water was delivered in canisters pushed through tubes in the wall.

The blaring continued on, with no end in sight.

 _Could it be…?_

 _No,_ she decided. It was impossible. He would never be able to escape his cell alone.

Nora sighed and curled back up in her blankets. _They're probably just running some stupid drill…_

She was just about to go back to sleep when Nora thought she heard the unfamiliar screech of metal on metal.


	36. Chapter 34Chapter 36

**A/N: I'M SO SORRY. I got home at 12:30 on my regular update day; I was _not_ anticipating that. Please, please forgive me 3 :( **

**Disclaimer: I. Do. Not. Own. X-men.**

K.J. Bollinger: **Thank you very much!**

anonymouscsifan: **I'm sorry for leaving you hanging so much D: But there's two announcements you'll want to check out at the end of this chapter. (One is good, the other depends on how much you like this story…) You're right on all points btw: yes her trust in Peter will take a while -and hopefully my writing will do justice on that. But her torture has really just taken a hiatus… I hope you enjoy your time with your family! Thank you for** _ **all**_ **the inspiring words over these past months :)**

Adrillian1497: **I'M SORRY HERE IS THE NEXT CHAPTER.**

MissDarkBlu259: **I know… the last chapter was quite short in comparison. But I didn't see any other way to end it -I hope you enjoy this one: it is a** _ **little**_ **longer.**

emily88034: **I know, I know, the cliffhangers are the bane of everyone's existence with this story. But the way I see it: each chapter ends in that frustrating way, either because of necessity, or fitting-in-ness with the rest of the story. And I hope it's not** _ **too**_ **unhealthy for you to be so invested in this -also thank you for that :)**

C.B. Weasley: **Thank you! I thought that there should've been a chapter that kind of caught up with some other characters (and tied it in with the canon -finally!) Gaaahh! Your words give me so much joy! And though I say the same things over and over in expressing my thanks, please know that it does not mean any less than the other times :)**

Guest: **I'm so glad you're in love with this story! And let me tell you: Nora and Peter's reunion-reactions will not disappoint. (At least on Nora's part, I hope XD) Thank you, whoever you are, for the support.**

MusicLovingPunkAnimeGirl: **Wanda is** _ **trying**_ **to find Nora's location -in the effort of breaking out. But some other people -with better sources- beat her to it.**

Queen (Guest): **I'm glad that me writing Nora being on her own so young is believable to you :)** **And yes: Nora and Peter were asshats to Wanda -so really: I'm the asshat here for writing them like that. But with Peter doing similar things with Wanda's past friends -although Nora was different this time- it became -sadly- old hat for him. Apologies for the feels, though I have a bit of self-pride knowing that I am capable of causing such things ;) Thank you for your reviews!**

Lily (Guest): **I'm glad that you are enjoying it so much; it has been fun for me as well. And yeah: it hurt Wanda, but if you're reading this, know that things** _ **will**_ **eventually get better for the three of them.**

Amelia-bella1: **eeee! *fist-pumps* Frick yes! The** _ **best**_ **X-Men Peter OC?! Thank you so much! The story fits so well? I'm so happy to hear that -it's something I** _ **really**_ **try to get right. And smut… Hmmmmm, idk about that just yet… Though I** _ **do**_ **have plans to continue this into the Apocalypse storyline, so hopefully that sates your curiosity for now… Thank you** _ **so freaking much.**_ **This review warmed my heart in so many ways…**

 **Phew! *wipes singular drop of sweat off brow* TWELVE reviews in ONE week. I never thought that would happen! There were so many lovely people to reply to, and even if you didn't review, I know you were there, reading my story -we passed 40,000 views this week!**

 **And finally: a rather important author's not at the end: please read it :)**

 _January 25, 1973. Pentagon, Washington DC._

The three men blinked, and all seven of the security guards were sprawled about on the floor. What some people might have called food was splattered all over the ground. The fire alarms -and sprinklers- had been set off, and now they were all drenched.

Logan smirked appreciatively. _He h_ _asn't chang_ _ed a bit._

Charles' old inquisitive habits began to arise; _how fast does time pass for him? Does he metabolize nutrients like a normal human? How quick is he able to_ truly _go-_ he shoved those old thoughts away. He wasn't that man anymore.

Jaw steeled, Erik kept his true emotions hidden away -as usual. But inside there was a hellstorm brewing. _Is this the boy Nora talked about all those months ago?_ It had to be. But he didn't want to admit it.

They slowly filed out of the kitchen, Logan patting Peter on the back as he passed by. The teen grimaced when they passed as he saw what _he'd_ caused. Nora wouldn't be proud.

Nora. _His_ Nora. Only she wasn't 'his' anymore. ...As if she'd ever been his. She'd lied from the start- even when he thought she'd come clean, she had still been lying.

It had been so long since they'd last spoke- never mind on good terms. He hoped she was alright; that she wasn't hurt.

They converged with another man in the main security hallway. Peter was about to take him out, but stopped when Logan shook his head. He was with them, Peter realized. He hadn't recognized the taller man at first -probably because of the ridiculous bucket hat he was wearing.

He and Charles nodded to one other. Hank looked at Erik for moment, like he was seeing a past relic. Something he'd wanted to be kept buried.

"Her cell's this way," Hank spoke, motioning for them to follow him through a door on the left.

"He's talking about Nora?" Peter asked Logan.

Logan nodded. "And kid," he started to say, but Peter interrupted.

"Listen: I don't know who you are, or where you're from. But I know _her._ I know she's gonna be pissed. And-"

"Alright, okay, kid. Just… keep your distance."

Peter nodded.

As they snuck past an empty security room, Peter couldn't help thinking of the picture on her file. It was like a regular mug-shot, but she had tubes stuffed up her nose, and her eyes were barely open. It looked like they had been drugging her, to keep her from escaping -so Logan had said.

Peter felt a hand on his arm, and realized that they had stopped.

"What's going on?" He asked, but shut up when he saw they were at a dead end.

"I- I don't understand…" Hank muttered. "The map… The cell should be right here.."

 _Well maybe your map's a little dated,_ Peter thought.

The wall in front of them looked out of place, having a series of oddly-placed ridges and bumps all over it.

"I think if we backtrack…" Hank said. "I might've missed a turn back there.."

"No."

Peter turned to the man they'd broken out, fists clenched. _No?! How dare he say no! We just broke him out of prison, for God's sake! And now he wants to abandon Nora?!_

"There's something else there," Erik said. He held out his hand, palm facing the wall.

After a few moments of intense concentration, he yanked his arm back, pulling with it a strip of the metal wall.

The others stared on in awe as he did this, exposing what was now seen as a hidden cell.

It was completely concealed from the outside world. The only orifices to it was seemingly the toilet as well as the shower's drain, and a tiny chute. They assumed the chute was for the kind of box-like meal Peter had delivered when releasing Erik.

Erik threw out his hand one more time, and the one side of the metal box was finally shredded.

They all waited apprehensively, as if something were supposed to happen.

For almost half a minute, nothing moved from the jagged-edged doorway.

Then: it was there. They all strained their ears to hear it; a voice.

It made no recognizable words. Only mumbles that were barely heard over the electrical hum of the Pentagon.

Erik took a few steps forward, motioning for the others to stay back. He carefully placed one hand on the upper edge of the doorway, and ducked his head as he entered.

The room was smaller than the one they had shared. Boxlike; with only a dim, blue light that barely allowed him to see. A pile of blankets lay clumped in one corner; with what looked like curls of hair spilling out of it.

He crept forward, and knelt down next to the sleeping person.

It was Nora. In all her insane glory. He rolled her over until she was on her back.

 _"Hey,"_ he spoke in French. _"Wake up."_

She stirred after a moment, eyes barely registering his features. The only sign that she recognized him was the small quirk in the corner of her mouth and the fact that he was not yet dead.

He helped her up by one arm, leaving the blankets on the steel floor.

She followed him out of the box, Peter slowly backing up out of sight as she did.

As she attempted to hold his hand, only then did Erik notice the strange contraptions straining her fingers apart.

She stared up at him, dilated eyes showing a moment of clarity: asking him to remove the violating restraints.

He nodded and brushed his hands over hers; the braces fell to the floor with a final clatter.

Charles and Hank stared in horror from the aging sores across her knuckles to the now-mangled ball of leather and metal.

In this sick moment of realization, they only noticed the oncoming rumble of officers' combat boots until it was too late.

People stormed the hallway, all shouting unintelligible commands that probably had to do something with surrendering.

The group of men who Nora -still hadn't noticed Peter was a part of- was thinking of dubbing the 'Fabulous Four', reared their various weapons. She, frustratingly, was shoved to the back.

Safety's were quickly flicked off as security guards raised their guns. Still yelling.

Nora didn't like it when people yelled. It was annoying. And gave her headaches.

Headaches. _A continuous pain in the head._ Synonym for _migraine._ Migraine. She was about to get one. Migraines. She'd had a lot of those over the past while. Migrainemigraine. But it hadn't been her fault. Trask. Migraine. Not her fault. Cray. Hurt her. MigraineheadpainheadachehurttRASKFAULT.

Over the next five seconds, the 'Fabulous Four's' attention would only be focused on the reoccurring sight of the girl they'd once thought a feeble prisoner, now appearing across the room. She did so at random intervals, disabling each of the twelve guards in the process.

Moments. Like snapshots in time: that's all they remembered. One shot she was on the ceiling, hands raised over her head as she flew towards two guards on the ground. In another she was running up the wall in mid-spin, leg kicking out at her would-be assailants.

Five seconds. It felt like five years. She could've made it feel like less for them. Like less time than it had taken Peter. But her mind was wavering, which made her glitch across space.

Then it was over.

She was certainly a sight to behold. Curly mess of hair falling to her waist; grey jumpsuit hanging off one shoulder with a formerly-white tank-top underneath. Hands clenched at her sides as she looked at her "rescuers" with an intense stare.

But it was her eyes that may have scared them the most. Their brown colouring still remained, but the light that had once sparkled in them was no longer there. Her shrunken, blood-shot pupils and trembling stance gave off that of a maniac.

To a hunter, her demeanor would be akin to one of a wounded deer.

One that would not go down without a fight.

The five men stood warily at the ripped-open entrance to her cell while she cautiously looked them over.

Her brain function was so off-kilter, she only had the power to concentrate on one at a time.

The first man was rather hairy, dressed in bellbottoms and a brown leather jacket. He was staring at her, impressed, as if they had met before. But she did not know him.

The second was shorter than all the rest, he looked tired, but mildly interested. He seemed slightly familiar, even with his shaggy hair covering up much of his face.

 _"Hallo, Erik."_ Nora finally was able to make some words, sighing internally at the sight of him. She knew Erik. He was good.

At least she knew one of the people-

All they heard was a primal screech. Then Peter was sprawled on the ground; red handprint marring his face while he grabbed his kicked crotch, muttering something about 'deserving that'.

Erik wasted no time hoisting Nora up by her (metal) prisoner's belt. She was suspended in the air, and would not be able to change things -even in a time-stop.

She screamed a never-ending volley of French obscenities at her silver-haired ex. All the while, Erik tried to calm her down using the supposed 'language of love'.

She clawed at the air, desperate to get at him.

She'd had months to plan her revenge. Months of painful mental and physical torture: and nothing would stop her now.

"What's going on?" Charles muttered to Logan out of the corner of his mouth.

"Nothing you want to get in between of," _just quite yet,_ he answered. "These three are undoubtedly a few of the most powerful mutants I've ever had the disappointment of knowing. Back in my timeline, their feuds were legendary."

"Timeline?" Charles asked.

Logan took a few steps towards Nora's writhing, still-suspended body. "If I can get her to calm down, then she might be able to explain that theory to you."

He none-too-gently nudged Erik out of the way, and quietly whispered something in Nora's ear.

Whatever he said, it made her rosy-red cheeks turn a ghostly pale. Then her body went limp in a dead faint.

"Or, you could just do that," Erik said.

He was curious as to what had been said.

Peter wouldn't let any of the other men touch Nora, and, despite their misgivings, they let him carry her to the getaway car.

One by one, they all squeezed into the back. With Logan in the passenger's seat, and Hank in the driver's, Peter was the moderator between Erik and Charles, while Erik was the same for Nora and Peter.

The drive to the airfield was -to say the least- awkward.

Hank drove the car. He had previously made arrangements for a private jet using Charles' fortune. And it didn't take a genius (or a telepath, for that matter) to tell that they both had a million questions on their mind.

After stopping momentarily for gas, they all got back into the car after stretching there legs. All except Nora that is; she was still unconscious.

The two current residents of the Xavier institute now sat in the front, while the elder time-traveller, two ex-inmates, and he speedster occupied the back.

Logan sat by the left window, Erik was squished in the middle, while Peter held Nora on the right side.

Her legs were awkwardly spread across Logan and Erik's knees while Peter cradled the rest of her close to his chest.

He moved to brush her hair aside but was stopped by a pair of deadly looking claws.

Peter stared indignantly at the supposed-time-traveler, "What's your problem?"

Logan raised one eyebrow, "My _problem?_ My problem, bub, is that I'm pretty sure we both know she doesn't like being touched. _Especially_ by people who've betrayed her."

"Hey! I had no choice in the matter."

"No choice? Sure you did!" Logan growled. "You didn't _have_ to rat her out to the feds. And it sure would've made my job a lot easier," he muttered the last part.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Peter said.

"Nothing kid; I just wouldn't touch her anymore than necessary. Especially if you want _any_ chance of making up with her."

"And just what would you know about-"

"Stop the car!" Nora was awake.

.

.

.

 _Five minutes earlier… (Nora-time)_

The lucky part of their current situation was that Nora's tirade of revenge had been put at a standstill. (For now.)

The unlucky part of the trip was that they would have to pass through the treacherous city centre of Washington DC. It was hell on earth for any driver of average skill.

Or perhaps the unlucky part was that the six-police-car-one-semi-truck car chase had just reached its climax as their rental-chevy passed through the New York Avenue and fourteenth street intersection.

No one knows how or why this chase began. Or how it was in Washington DC. Only that it happened.

"And just what would you know about anything concerning us?!" Peter said, too agitated at this guy's nerve to pay attention to anything else.

Logan popped a cigar in his mouth, completely oblivious to the "no smoking because it's apparently dangerous" sign on the car window. "I know enough to be sure that there isn't an _us_ anymore, kid."

Head in his hands, Charles asked, "Could we _please_ leave the quarreling until _after_ we are out of the car?"

Erik was about to make a comment, but then it hit them.

 _SCREEE—!_ The squeal of the oncoming semi's tires.

 _CRASH._ The sound that was made as the two vehicles collided, one obviously dominating another. Wheels spinning out of control; glass shattering; metal crumpling.

 _BOOM._ The fireball caused by the combination of Logan's cigar and the two gas tanks exploding into the sky.

The doors had all been locked, (a nervous habit of Hank's) so only Logan was able to make it out. Punching a window, despite his skin-less fist. He pushed aside the fact that some longtime friends of his had just died ten seconds ago, and focused on pulling Nora out with him.

It anyone was to be saved, it had to be her.

They both lay on the scorched tarmac, surrounded by the wreckage of the explosion. Cars squealed to a stop in front of the crash. People got out and were running away from the sight. Logan gasped as his lungs began to reconstruct themselves. Nora, on the other hand, writhed on the ground in what should've been the last moments of her life.

She was charred beyond belief, her skin now having the consistency and stench of burning plastic.

There was only moments left. Logan clutched Nora's hand in his, trying to squeeze a little life back into her.

"Do it now," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You have to save them."

"Others…" She choked out, before curling into a bought of coughs. _Others will have to die._

He knew what she was trying to say. But there was too great a price to pay for them to be lost now.

"People _will_ die," Logan said. "But it will be for the future generations, for the greater good."

Nora squeezed her eyes shut, putting the pain of having been burned alive to memory. She briefly compared it to the heartbreak of Peter's betrayal.

Nope. Still wasn't as bad.

 _Did the 'bigger scheme' really matter?_

 _Was there really a 'greater good'?_

If she still had fully-functioning lungs, Nora would've sighed.

Instead, she snapped (what remained of) her fingers.

.

.

.

"I can't stop the car!" Hank cried. He motioned for Charles to hold Nora back, as she seemed to be trying to get at the parking brake. "We're in the middle of a street!"

"Fine! If you won't stop the car: then I will!"

Then, they were in a deserted back alley.

They all fell out of their frozen seated positions onto the cobblestone street.

All except Nora, who was lying in the back car seat. All of them stared in astonished confusion at the pair of sneaker-clad feet dangling out the open window.

She was breathing heavily, like she'd just done an hour's worth of heavy lifting.

"What time is it?" She asked blearily, referring to no one in particular.

"12:34," Charles answered. He was still confused as to how he'd gotten here. He also felt a little like throwing up.

Nora giggled softly, "Hehe… One, two, three, four…"

Confused, the group shook their heads at the strange comment.

The least surprised was Peter, and that came without question. Logan seemed more agitated than confused, as they _were_ on a tight schedule. Erik still wanted to know how this girl ticked, and just exactly _why_ he had been broken out.

Hank was probably the worst off of all of them. But he had to divert his attention to Charles, who had chosen that moment to upchuck the burger they'd had for lunch next to a dumpster.

Sighing, Nora got up and out of the car. Her image seemed to move for a second, then there was a bottle of water in her hand. "You could've at least made it to the dumpster."

She tossed the bottle to Hank, who asked, "Uh, mind telling us how we got here?"

"Not at all!" Nora opened the front and back doors, and motioned for everyone to get inside. After they moved to do so, she flopped down into the passenger seat. "I paused time; drove the car down here; then dragged all you out to safety."

"Safety? We weren't in any danger!"

"Trust the time-traveller, little man," Nora said, directing the quip at Charles.

Miffed, he was about to say something, but was stopped when Nora kept talking.

"-I saved you all from a _very_ painful death. That! Would have happened… right.. about.. _now._ "

The moment she said 'now' a large semi-truck sped by, followed by a series of cop cars.

"But, nothing happened," Hank questioned.

"That's because I stopped it," Nora said before a gasping and putting her head in her hands. The brunette took a deep breath; she hadn't talked this much in months.

 _She hasn't changed a bit,_ Logan chuckled to himself. _Still the same old, crazy, sassy bat._

"I'd hate to break up this _lovely_ moment," Erik drawled, noticing how Nora seemed to grow more and more tired as this interaction went on. "But aren't we on a rather tight schedule?"

After a moment, the others agreed and all clamored back into the too-small car.

.

.

.

 **A/N: So, if anyone is confused: I would describe Nora's time-stopping/fighting (as viewed by other people) as looking like a video game glitch. Like when you see the character appearing randomly across the screen.**

 **And so. There's good news, and there's kind of sad/bad news.**

 **The good news is that there will be another double-chapter update next week. (I'll stay on the regular schedule this time, I promise!)**

 **And the sad/bad news… well… There's only about five or six more chapters left in this story :( I know how bad that sounds. But trust me, some of them are quite long, and they all cover quite a lot of ground in wrapping up this story.**

 **Jeez… It feels so weird to say that. Anyways, thank ya'll for reading. This probably counts as a cliff-hanger for you, but if you think about it: all they really do now is drive to the plane -and the stuff that happens after that is a _completely_ different story… ;) **


	37. Chapter 35Chapter37

**A/N: Guess who gets a double update? YOU do! Mostly because these two chapters couldn't go together any other way XD Thank you for reading!**

MusicLovingPunkAnimeGirl: **Is it bad that I get some kind of joy over you feeling so sad that this story is ending? XD Either way; I'm sorry? ;)**

Amelia-bella1: **Haha, well sorry for returning to my usual 1-per-week update schedule. And yes: Peter** _ **did**_ **deserve what was coming for him. You are partly right about the Paris bit ;) So read on to find out!**

anonymouscsifan: **Yeah Logan is kind of protective of everyone when he goes back in time -though he does it in his own, gruff way :) Oh and I think you'll like these two chapter, something PRETTY big happens ;)**

Freedom Hunter: **I'm sorry! :( That's just how it's gonna be… Hopefully you'll enjoy them, though! :)**

Adrillian1497: **Me too, it's weird to say that, especially after how long I've been writing this for… Anyways, thank you for reading this story :)**

C.B. Weasley: **Oh I'm sure you'll like where this goes… ;)**

gracedreamcloud: **Ohmygoodness! YOU'RE the amazing one! I'm so happy that you love everything so much :) 33 And yes: Peter has some guilt coming to him.**

JediKendalina: **Thank you for the kind words! I'm glad you're enjoying it :D**

LSU lovePurple liveGold: BTW: awesome pen name dude! And thank you: I did try to make something different and hopefully original. And according to you: I have achieved that! :)

 **Most dialogue in _italics_ is french being spoken.**

Chapter 35/Chapter 37

"Peter, thank you very, very much," Charles said to the teen.

Erik held out his hand and they shook, "You take care," he said.

Erik looked at Nora during this exchange. They made eye contact, but her face gave away nothing. He walked up the steps and into the plane.

"Hey, I saw your flight plan in the cockpit," Peter said eagerly. "Why are you going to Paris?"

Nora perked up at the mention if Paris. She was leaning against the rental car, but as Charles and Hank turned to go up the stairs she made a split-second decision.

"Hold up," she said, abandoning the car she was using as support. "I'm coming with you."

"What?!" Peter looked at her like she'd just suggested they jump into a volcano. "But you- you..." He moved to put his hand on her shoulder but she batted it away.

 _"_ _You_ don't get to say anything. And you do _not_ get to touch me in _any_ way." Her voice shook with anger. There was _no way_ she was getting into a car -of her own free will- with him ever again.

Stunned, Charles and Hank moved out of her way as Nora stomped up the stairs.

Still a little off from her outburst, Charles off-handedly tossed Peter the keys to the car. "Do me and a favor and return it for me."

Peter nodded, "Okay."

"And Peter?" Charles said, looking down at the conflicted teen. "Take it slow."

It was meant as a joke, to lighten the mood.

Peter laughed as he got into the car. Though as he drove away he found his mind drawn to one thing in particular.

 _Nora._

He'd known she would hate him. From the moment it had became known that she had come back to _him_ from the _future_ , he'd had a sinking feeling that nothing good would come of it.

She hated him, and he deserved it.

.

.

.

So. The hairy one was from the future.

Nora briefly gave him her attention. Muscly… leather jacket.. spiky hair… and _bone_ claws.

 _Cool,_ she thought, wondering if that's all there was to his mutation.

"You sacrificed your powers so you could walk?" Erik's voice brought her back to reality.

He and the shorter one - _Charles,_ Nora reminded herself, the other man in Brooklyn- seemed to be fighting.

Charles clenched the armrests of her chair. "I sacrificed my powers so I could sleep. What do you know about it?"

His hair had grown out in the past ten years, Nora thought sadly. And he has the eyes and twitchiness of an addict.

This serum he's on… it can take away powers, she mused.

"You have no idea what I've done." They were still fighting.

"I know you took the things that mean the most to me." The two of the seemed locked together in this power struggle.

Erik growled, "Well maybe you should've fought _harder_ for them."

Nora wasn't exactly sure what 'things' they were talking about, but judging by Charles' next reaction, that had been the last straw.

Furious, Charles jumped up. "If you want a fight, Erik, I will give you a fight!"

"Sit down," Logan ordered. Nora gave him a look. _Who was he again?_

Erik held out his hand as a sign for them to stay back. "Let him come."

Nora had been looking over the back of her seat as they fought, but now she was curled up in the cushion of her chair.

She slowly put her hands over her ears, closing her eyes in the process.

As Erik began to rattle off the names of their fallen brethren, Logan looked to Nora.

Her mouth was moving, but no words came out.

 _This all must be so overwhelming,_ he realized. _She spent months in the most_ extreme _kind of solitary, and now she's having to sit through a shouting match that's been a decade in the making!_

 _"You_ abandoned us _ALL,"_ Erik said forcefully.

The plane had gone into a dive, its axis completely off centre.

Charles had fallen back into his seat, leaving Erik the only one standing.

Hearing Hank's anguished cries from the cockpit, Erik let go his hold over the metal structure. Everything fell back into place as the plane slowly righted itself.

Once it was safe enough to stand, Charles got up and stormed to the front.

Logan said something to Erik, but Nora didn't listen to their short conversation. Something about survivors…

A grim silence took over the interior. Nora looked around cautiously. _Well… that was_ interesting.

"Do they always do that?" She directed her question towards Logan. _If so, I may need to re-think my choice of transportation._

Logan raised an eyebrow, "More often than you'd think."

"Hmm," she nodded as she stood up. "Well, I guess I'll clean all this shit up."

She snapped her fingers, Erik noticing how her hands shook.

And then everything was cleaned up. There was a neat pile of trash swept into the corner, and all of the fallen items had been put back in their proper places.

Erik and Logan both jumped at this -Erik more-so than Logan.

Nora noted this, wondering if he knew the future version of her.

She made her way to the back of the plane, searching for something to eat.

Nora knew that today wasn't the right date. She wasn't to go to Paris (along with the unnamed 'her') for almost another ten years!

Still… ever since she had talked to her much older self in that 1930's bakery… Nora had felt drawn to France… To Paris: her home.

She had not travelled to France -or even gone there on her own- since her coming to this century. Nora wasn't even sure if she was right in considering it her home anymore.

Yet now here she was. On a plane, of all things, returning to the city.

There was a strange fluttering in her stomach. Nora was not sure whether she liked it or not.

 _Score!_ She clapped her hands together silently.

While the popcorn microwaved itself to readiness, Nora flipped through a magazine she'd found in the galley.

 _It was 1973._

She'd missed so much.

The start of the grade twelve school year, her seventeenth birthday, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Christmas, New Year's…

She fell to the floor then, head in her hands.

Her shoulders shook and her throat closed up and her spine tickled, yet the tears would not come.

 _So much time… All just… wasted._

She wanted to hurt Peter. To make him pay.

But now she was nothing but confused.

He'd seemed almost… sorry, after she had slapped him. (It had been a good slap after all.) And then he'd been holding her in the car -she remembered that much.

Peter had acted the complete opposite of what Nora had been expecting… And so had she, now that she came to think of it.

And really, he was the last person she had expected to see in all of her imaginary breakout fantasies.

Sure, Nora wanted to hit him. She still wanted to hit him. Over, and over, and over; until his face was no longer a face and-

She stopped herself, shaking the violent thoughts from her head.

But what Logan had said had shocked Nora to the bone. Scared… _frightened her._

 _J_ _une seventeenth, 1982._ He knew the date. Something that only she (or _two_ she's depending on how you counted) should've known.

The microwave beeped, signaling its end. Nora looked up then, blinking away her tears.

She ended up burning her fingers on the popcorn bag, and then dropping it on the floor.

"Shit!" The bag fell to the ground, splitting open as contact was made.

The popcorn spilled out in all directions, much to Nora's dismay.

She sniffed, now what was she going to eat? 

Nora was so invested in her food, and her crying, that she hadn't even noticed the blinding golden light that had came out from underneath the bathroom door.

"Too bad," the elder Nora said. "I've been craving popcorn for months."

"Shit on a dick!" Nora cried, whirling around. She brandished a dull kitchen knife at her would-be assailant, until she realized who it was.

"Oh… you again."

"Yep. It's me." The older Nora scooped up some popcorn and munched on it happily.

The woman looked quite strange in the chef's uniform she'd found in the back of the galley. That _plus_ her long grey hair made for quite the interesting combination.

After finishing about half the popcorn, older Nora sighed happily, stretching her torso around.

"Now then, it's good to see you, but-"

 _"-Good to see me?!"_ Nora cried. "What the _hell_ do you mean by that?!" She reared back and punched her future self in the nose.

Older Nora stumbled backwards. The, steading herself, she took a defensive stance.

With each calculated punch, came an even more calculated block. The elder Nora seemed almost bored as she merely dodged Nora's final, desperate blow.

"You _knew_ they were gonna put me in solitary! You _knew_ about the torture and the experiments, and the… the..." Nora collapsed in the woman's arms, sobbing.

"I know..." She said, comfortably patting Nora's head. "I know… I'm sorry..."

Nora sniffed, "That's not enough… It'll never be enough..."

The door to the galley suddenly flew open, exposing the two of them to the gaping mouths of Erik and Logan.

Logan closed his mouth, gulping nervously as he saw the woman who, to him, had died just two days ago.

The older Nora's eyes flickered between the two men. She smiled sadly. "Long time no see, guys."

"What the fuck is going on back there?" Charles yelled from the cockpit.

.

.

.

"It's been a long time since I played," Charles grumbled.

"Don't worry," Erik settled back into his chair. "I'll go easy on you."

As the two masterminds settled into their game of chess, Logan found his gaze drawn to the two women sitting to his right.

The younger slept, -for the moment- a stray piece of hair waving back and forth with each breath she took.

The elder sat across from her, hands bridged just below her mouth. She stared pensively at the young woman. Logan knew that look. It was one of a survivor, and one of someone who had reached their final destination.

These two women. They shared a name, a language, some related abilities. -That is where the similarities ended.

Their actions, their stories, lives, ideologies. -All completely different.

Yet if someone were to compare their DNA, they would find it to be completely identical.

Nora let out a particularly loud breath. Then, Logan realized that she'd been slowly disappearing over the past few minutes.

As her body disappeared almost completely -only retaining its hazy outline- the older Nora slowly got up and crept over.

She knelt down next to the teen, casually lying her head on the arm of the chair.

He was about to return to his newspaper when she said, "You're staring, Logan."

His gaze met hers and he smiled wryly. "What are you doing here, Nora?"

"I'm on an errand," she said. "One that I need _her_ for."

Erik briefly looked over his shoulder at them before returning to his game.

"You and your damn mysteries..." Logan muttered. "Would it kill you to give me a straight answer, for once?"

"I'm a time-traveler, Logan. It's my job to keep secrets."

He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

Nora muttered in her sleep. Words that neither of them could distinguish.

"Where is she?" Logan asked.

"I wish I knew," the older Nora murmured, taking Nora's hand in hers. She had begun to slowly reappear. "Time-phasing was never one of my abilities."

She was silent for a moment, only stroking the hand of her past self. Then she asked, "Did I die? You're staring at me like I've already died."

Logan paused, then nodded slowly.

"Kitty sent you back?"

Another nod.

It was strange to be told of one's own death, years, perhaps decades before it _might_ happen.

"You're here," she said slowly. "That means everything is going to change."

"That's the idea," Logan said.

"Hmmm," she thought aloud to herself. "Then I guess some of it worked out..."

Logan didn't bother asking what she meant by that.

.

.

.

"It's time for us to go."

"What?" Nora looked up at her future self. "Why? I- I thought we were gonna go with them…?"

They were sitting the lobby of a car rental place. It was relatively empty in the warm Paris afternoon.

Nora had just walked Hank through his talking to the dealer. (All in french, of course.) And now she was sitting beside Erik in the waiting lounge.

"Come on." The older Nora looked impatient. Scared, almost. "We have somewhere to be."

"Alright, alright." Nora turned to Erik, then realized that time had been paused for the entire conversation. "… Just… let me say goodbye, alright?" She had no idea if she would ever see Erik again.

The elder Nora sighed, reluctantly leaving her with him.

Time resumed. Nora saw Charles, Hank, and Logan making their way through the parking lot. They would undoubtedly take at least half an hour between them all to sort through the mess of old cars.

"Where'd your friend go?" Erik asked, glancing up from his magazine.

"She's waiting outside." Nora shifted in her seat until she was facing him. "She says we have to go now."

"Go where?"

 _Good question._ "I don't know," she said.

His head rose slowly until they made eye contact.

"You know… Just because she's _you_ doesn't mean you have to listen to her."

He seemed almost uncharacteristically worried. Nora blushed, shrugging her shoulders nervously. "Yeah… but..." Her voice trailed off.

Then his hand was on her arm. Light, strong; holding her there. And she stared at him and he reminded her _so much_ of him and she knew he _had_ to be Peter's father. It all added up.

"Your son," she told him, getting up to leave. "He's the one who broke you out."

Erik nodded, he had suspected. Then he said, "Magda… How is she?"

She stopped. "Fine. Good, actually. After you left, she made her own way. -Twins an' all."

His jaw dropped.

"Yes. He has a sister. A twin." Then she whirled around and put her face directly in front of his.

"Now, listen. I _know_ you're their father, and I _know_ you may want to see them, and I _know_ you mean well." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "But you keep your _fuckin'_ distance from them, alright? They've gone through too much already, just to have some _guy_ show back up pretendin'' to care!"

Nora was breathing heavily as she stepped back.

The words stung, she knew that much.

But they were necessary. The last thing the Maximoffs needed was a known 'terrorist' showing up on their front porch -father or not.

"Goodbye, Erik." Then she left.

With time frozen, the two Noras went into a boutique.

Nora _had_ picked up a t-shirt and jeans back in the US, but after wearing them for twenty hours, it was time for a change.

"Thought you might want to get some new clothes," the older Nora said. She grabbed a few things for herself before heading into a change-room.

Nora really didn't care what she wore, as long as it didn't grab too much attention.

She picked out a blouse; white, long sleeves -but they could be buttoned up to her elbows.

Finding a pair of dull, patterned leggings, she held them up under a pair of high-waisted denim shorts.

"Ready?" Nora looked up as the woman exited the change-room.

She nodded solemnly, "Yeah, just let me put all this on."

Nora the elder nodded. Now she was wearing a large sunhat, long pants, and a simple grey jacket.

They left the store together, skirting down the block. Nora made sure they were heavily immersed in a crowd before she let time resume.

They caught a taxi to the outskirts of the city. The drive was long -almost two hours with all the traffic- and the older Nora did not say a word for the entire journey.

 _"_ _Keep the change,"_ Nora told the driver after she handed him seventy-five euros. (She had pick-pocketed it from a wealthy-looking woman.)

As he drove off, the elder Nora said, "You may think that will have made his day… he'll probably just spend it on drink."

"Why are you so cynical?" Nora inquired. She really _was_ curious.

The woman began to walk into the forest bordering the beginning of the suburbs. "If you could see the things I have, you too would have a more grim view on life."

 _…What have I got myself into?_ Nora wondered before following her into the forest.

After twenty minutes of slogging through the thick brush, Nora called out, "Where are we even going?"

"Not _where,"_ her future self called back to her. _"When."_

They stopped next to a tree. It was extremely tall, seeming to stretch all the way to the sky. Old and gnarled, its bark was worn from hundreds of years of age.

The elder Nora promptly sat down, crossing her legs at the base of the tree's roots.

"Alright." Nora kept her stance. Steady, powerful. "Tell me: _now._ What the _hell_ is going on."

The woman opened her eyes and stared right at Nora. "In approximately nine minutes, you will travel back in time. To _France,_ on the exact day you first travelled to _this_ century."

"Wha-? How can you be sure of that?!" Nora cried.

"I _know_ that, because I did the same thing in _my_ timeline."

"Okay, now I'm really confused." Nora sat down across from the woman.

"Our time-traveling, though uncontrollable, follows a pattern," the older Nora explains. "And since we share the same DNA -though technically from another timeline, I _know_ that pattern."

"Okay then," Nora said, becoming aware of an almost painful tingling sensation at the back of her head. "But won't I have to make a bunch of random trips through this century when I turn sixty?"

The woman chuckled, then grew solemn. "No… You won't do that because -hopefully- if this all works out, that will never need to happen."

"Uggh." Nora put her head in her hands. _All of this time-travel shit gets so damn_ confusing, she thought. _And_ I'm _the time-traveler in it all!_

"Ow..." Nora cringed as the headache got worse.

She flopped onto her back, arms out on either side.

"I suppose you're now going to ask me why this is all happening?"

"What?" Nora asked.

"You must be at least a _little_ curious," her older self mused.

"Do you know? Why this is all happening?" Nora looked questioningly at the woman.

"Nope!" She shook her head wildly. "Not even a little!"

Nora groaned again, partly because of the lack of answers, mostly because of her headache.

A cool breeze made its way through the clearing, rustling the trees' leaves.

"It's almost time," the older Nora said. "Take my hand."

Nora had already begun to glow. She clenched her eyes shut to stop the tears from coming out.

The woman put a comforting arm around the teen

"Does it… Does it ever stop hurting?" Nora asked through clenched teeth.

The woman nodded, the wrinkled that creased her forehead revealing her true age.

"Yes. Someday… I promise it will no longer bring you pain. Someday, you may look forward to traveling."

And for once, she spoke the truth.


	38. Chapter 36Chapter 38

**A/N: Part TWO of the double update! Shorter chapter; but no less important! ;)**

 **All dialogue in _italics_ is the characters speaking in french.**

Chapter 36/Chapter 38

 _Paris, France. 1347._

It was raining. It had been for days now. People skirted from building to building, clothes hiked up as their boots sloshed through the puddles.

Horse-drawn carriages were the taxis of this age. -If you didn't have enough money for them, then you needed to stay out of their way.

This was the _Banilieu._ The poorest district in Paris. Home to beggars, thieves, and murderers.

And although orphans resided here, they were all but stripped of their childhoods.

Most were sold into slavery or servitude -often by their own parents- and those who weren't, rarely survived their seventh year.

The air was damp. Nora kept her mouth closed, as to not breathe in the heavy smells of sweat and shit and stink.

She stayed close to her older self, hand keeping a firm grasp on the coin purse she had snagged.

Some poor nobleman had made the mistake of traveling through here and now he had paid the price -literally.

The elder Nora quickly stepped onto the cobblestone street, hand raised.

A carriage slowed to a stop in front of her. Its driver dressed in a black cloak and large-brimmed hat.

She told him which street to take them to, then her and Nora got inside.

With a roof now over their heads, the rain was muted to a dull _pitter-patter._

 _"Where are we going?"_ Nora asked -and not for the first time.

The woman hung her head. Her voice was low when she spoke. _"To the place of our sister's death."_

Nora blinked wildly, pushing her back into the wall behind her.

 _Old France… heavy rains… Banilieu… It was starting to make sense now._

 _"It's today, isn't it?"_ The day she died.

The woman nodded. _"Yes: soon."_

They rode in silence until the older Nora spoke up again.

 _"In my timeline..."_ She took Nora's hands in hers. _"Nora: things are very different there._ I _am very different there."_

 _"_ _Okay..."_ What was she getting at?

 _"_ _All of_ this… _Everything you know -everything_ I _know is like that because of one causal factor."_ She took a deep breath. _"And that factor is Danielle."_

If Nora wasn't sitting down, she would have taken a step back.

 _"..._ _What?"_

 _"In my timeline, Nora; Danielle came_ with _me to the twentieth century. She was alive."_

A dangerously hopeful light flickered through Nora's eyes. Her mouth opened slightly and her hands shook.

She smiled hopefully. _"That's why we're here, right? To change the past… to make sure she lives,"_ Nora whispered the last part to herself.

Her older self stared at her pityingly.

 _"_ _Not- not… exactly."_

Nora blinked, _"What..? Wh_ _at do_ _you mean?"_

 _"Danielle was alive in my timeline… so many things happened because of that. And- and if we want the future to have the chance to be changed -changed beyond repair- then… then she_ needs _to die."_

It was as if a switch had been flicked off in her brain. Nora stammered -unable to get a word out. She couldn't seem to find any air -her chest heaved up and down as she tried to breathe. Her eyes were suddenly overcome with tears -her already blurry vision made indistinguishable.

She shook her head, _"No… no, no, no, no, no!"_

Her hand fumbled for the door, trying to get out.

The woman grabbed her hand, clutching it. Then she shook Nora lightly by the shoulders. "You mustn't go out there! Just… _please…_ let it happen.." She was crying too. This was more difficult than imaginable for both of them.

For the younger, it was impossible. She'd spent her entire life working to get back here, and now that she was… she would just have to let Danielle die!

This was impossible… This… could not be happening.

For the older, it was just as difficult -maybe even more so!

She'd grown up with Danielle in the twentieth century. They had come there by accident. Survived, lived, and grown used to the strange, new time together. Despite their differences, the elder Nora remembered those years as some of the best of her life.

Then, they had been separated in a hell-storm between two groups. For too long, Nora had been forced to work, not knowing if her sister was even still _alive._ Then, briefly reunited, until Dani had been ripped away from her one last time.

The older Nora went through her twenty years with her sister. For how much longer she would have these memories… she did not know. Once the causal factor was changed, and _if_ Logan was successful, then this timeline would cease to exist for her… for _anyone._

For a moment, deep in thought, the woman loosened her grip on Nora, giving the teen a chance to slip away.

Nora burst out of the carriage, boots landing in the mud.

The driver cried out at her sudden exit.

He pulled on the reigns sharply, making the horse rear back in shock.

Nora was suddenly shoved aside. She looked down, only spotting a flash of grimy brown hair before the child skirted out of sight.

In that moment, she felt the loss of weight as the tiny, deft fingers had pick-pocketed the coin purse off of her. It was a feeling Nora was not accustomed to, usually _she_ was the one doing the stealing.

The horse jumped again, letting out a frightened neigh. A child had run into its path.

There was a sickening _thud_ as the hoof made contact. The horse whinnied, returning to all fours as the driver regained control.

The light was gone from her eyes before she hit the ground. Her tiny form seemed to crumple in on itself as she fell, the body soon mixing in with the muddy street side.

Bystanders would later recall the young woman's rather _dramatic_ reaction to the child's death.

They would blame it on nerves. After all, it was _such_ a tragedy.

Nora put a hand over her mouth. She didn't scream -she didn't say anything. She couldn't.

Her older self slowly exited the carriage behind her. She saw that it was done, a single tear flowing down her cheek.

 _"I am sorry… Danielle."_ She murmured.

The older Nora paid the driver, ignoring his hurried apologies. Soon after he had left, so did everyone else.

A common street rat was found dead almost every other day. Another would just mean one more round for the coroner.

 _"Come on,"_ Nora felt a tug on her sleeve. _"It's done. We must go now."_

Nora let herself be pulled back, despite the shock. When they were a safe distance away, she swore she could've heard the mournful wail of an innocent, brown-haired child being carried along with the wind; now truly alone in the world.

.

.

.

 _Paris, France. January 28_ _th_ _, 1973._

Nora woke, alone, in the empty field. Her clothes were draped beside her on one of the oak tree's many sturdy roots. She had been covered up with a blanket.

Carefully dressing herself, she returned to the social world.

People spoke in hushed voices, huddled closely like penguins. Parents held their children close, suspicious looks crossing their eyes. There were road blocks and police patrolling every major road. Nora paused time to skip past all these.

From the snippets of conversation she heard, Nora gathered that there had been some sort of attack.

Her suspicions were confirmed once she stopped in front of the Paris news-station's main office.

Every television screen available was plastered with the moving pictures of blue-skinned people, and a man floating down from an official-looking building covered in flags.

Nora looked closer and saw that the man was Erik.

 _Oh._ Charles, Hank, and Logan were nowhere to be seen. Only Erik, the blue woman… and another mutant. Also blue, just with more hair -and clothes.

 _This can't have been the purpose of their mission,_ Nora thought to herself.

She turned away from the window displaying all the screens, keeping her mouth clamped shut.

She was in shock -as was the rest of the world. _Why? What… What had gone wrong? Who_ is _the blue-skinned woman?_

 _"They're looking for her."_ An old woman said. She had hobbled over to Nora, and joined her in front of the window.

Nora looked her up and down until she was satisfied she wasn't some future incarnation of herself.

 _"_ _I was there, you know, when it all happened."_ The old woman seemed a bit over-eager to talk about the subject. Like if someone let her speak, she wouldn't stop. Like she had been waiting to tell someone all of this.

 _"_ _What did you see?"_ Nora asked, easily slipping into her native language.

 _"_ _Not much,"_ the woman said. "That _one crashed out of the window; then the floating one came down and tried to snatch her."_

 _"He can control metal,"_ Nora stated. _"-At least, that's what I've heard."_

The old woman readjusted her grip on her cane, back hunched. _"Yes… I believe you're right. He pulled something out of her leg… looked pretty small, maybe she was shot..."_ She grumbled, _"Who does he think he is!? Disrupting something as important as this!"_

She turned around, but the teenager had disappeared.

 _"_ _Damn kids..."_

 _._

 _._

 _"Can you imagine looking in the mirror and seeing that staring back at you?"_

Emilie stared down at her patient. The blond-haired woman waited a moment, then responded in English.

"Yes, I can."

 _"Where do you think she comes from?"_ Emilie mused absentmindedly. _"You think she has a family?"_

"Yes, she does."

After the strange wound on her calf had been cleaned and wrapped, Emilie left to go find some antibiotics.

Raven expected to be left alone, so she could leave unnoticed. But then another Nurse entered the ward carrying a tray.

She was young, with long, curly brown hair.

Pretty; innocent. Raven wondered what her family was like -if she had one.

Then she spoke, in perfect English, "He will be at _Gare du Nord,_ at two forty-five."

Her brown eyes made a fleeting glance to Raven's face, then she turned tail and left.

.

It had taken Nora two hours in a time-stop to find the right hospital.

Though she wasn't in her recognizable blue form, Nora could still see the vague similarities between the contours of her face and that of the blue woman's.

Nora's future self made it look so infuriatingly easy… leaving such mysterious messages, then ditching before she could be asked any questions.

She had found Erik in the train station three hours from now, but then she had gone back to tell the blue woman, and so that timeline had been abandoned.

Nora made her way to the airport, time-stop in full effect.

Things were surprisingly calm considering there had been a 'terrorist attack' just one day ago.

Though there _was_ some more rigorous airport security, Nora walked through there untouched.

She went into a bathroom, and came out in different clothes, carrying a walk-on bag and a ticket that used to belong to a 'Miss Brady Tyler'.

Nora made up a story in her head as they were called to board.

 _She was a Southern Virginia belle, returning home from the disaster that was the Paris 'Peace' Accords. Her brother, Mitchell Tyler the Third, had volunteered to fight in Vietnam. He had died there, and she'd been in support of the war's end ever since._

A few fake tears and the prospect of a bitchy freak-out would certainly put the flight attendants off of questioning her.

Surprisingly enough, the plane ride was uneventful.

No hijacking, or spontaneous lightning storms. No crying babies, either; it was a peaceful flight -the second time Nora had been in an airplane.

Even the turbulence seemed to be on an all-time low today, and for that, Nora was thankful.

People took little notice of her. Nora was sure to act out the mature yet rather snobby demeanor of the woman she was impersonating.

She had none of Brady Tyler's memories. She hadn't made any new contact since Trask's onslaught.

She was simply bullshitting her way through this -quite artfully, of course.

Nora was afraid of what might happen the next time she touched someone.

Her stomach rose as the plane began to descend. The pilot's voice crackled over the loud-speakers, announcing their arrival in 'approximately fifteen minutes.'

Nora nervously clutched the armrests of her chair. This flying thing in unnatural, she concluded. _Convenient,_ but unnatural.

The passengers exited the plane in an un-orderly fashion, none of them noticing the disappearance of the young, brown-haired woman.

She almost missed the bustling business of it all.

Everything in the United States was so loud and in-your-face… it drowned everything else out to a point where you couldn't hear yourself think.

And sometimes, that was a good thing.

Nora stole a motor-bike and drove it -time-stop turned on, of course- to the first remote location she came across.

She was in a forest, somewhere in the middle of New Jersey. She ditched the bike. Then, keeping time paused, she made her way into the wilderness.

She needed time to think -she needed time to mourn.

.

.

.

 _Silver Spring, Maryland. January 29th, 1973._

There was a knock at the door. For the second time in three days, Magda opened it to reveal three scary-looking, unfamiliar figures.

Two men, one woman; all dressed in suave, black suits, dickish sunglasses covering their eyes.

"Ma'am," the lead man spoke frankly, holding up a flashy badge.

"Can I help you?" She asked cooly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. If these 'FBI Agents' were here for Peter, they had another thing coming.

"We're here regarding the recent escape of a felon. Nora Green, supposedly a close friend of your family."

Magda shifted back and forth on her feet, careful not to let her nervousness show. "She was a friend of my children, yes. But we haven't had contact with her for many months! _-I_ wasn't even aware that she had been arrested!"

 _Mój Boze, Pietro. What have you gotten yourself into?_

"Yes," the man said. "The situation of her arrest is highly classified…" He smirked, "And from what I've been informed of, she was a little more than 'friends' with your son."

After that intrusive statement, the three agents let themselves in.

"A number of days ago," the sole woman said, opening the folder she was carrying for Magda to see. "Nora was broken out of her prison cell. You were the most recent connections to her… Has she tried to contact any of you?"

"No!" Magda's hands shook as she offered them all coffee. "Like I said, we haven't spoken to her since last July."

"Of course, of course," the lead man held his hands up defensively. "It's only our job to make sure. She _is,_ after all, a dangerous criminal."

Magda didn't know what Nora was in trouble for. All she knew was that the girl was lost. And Magda'd be damned if she didn't help her.

Magda answered their questions as calmly and as vaguely as she could.

But then they brought up Jason. Brygit's father. The lead man began to question after Wanda and Peter's parentage, an almost gleeful smirk growing on his face.

At this, Magda stood up.

"I think you should leave," she said, slowly, calmly. "We have nothing in our house, and without a search warrant or a valid reason for being here I can no longer permit you to stay."

They seemed a little taken aback by this -her sudden change in demeanor. But it wasn't long before their kind expressions were overcome with suspicion.

"You're oddly defensive for someone who has 'nothing to hide.'"

"And you're oddly persistent for someone just doing a 'routine check!'"

The lead man took a sharp breath through his teeth. "I can see that we've intruded on your gracious hospitality. We'll trouble you no more, _Miss._ Maximoff."

She nodded curtly, seeing them out.

In the kitchen, just twenty feet away, Peter struggled to keep Wanda from bursting out into the living room.

"Let… go of me!" She growled through gritted teeth.

"No!" He kept his hands secured on her shoulders until they both heard the door shut.

"Gaah!" Wanda cast her arms out, throwing Peter back with a flash of red energy. "What- what is your _problem!"_

 _"My problem?_ My problem is you getting arrested for assaulting three federal agents! You looked like you were gonna beat the shit outta them!"

"They- they had Nora!" Wanda put her head in her hands. "They… had her… I was so close… I could've found her." She looked close to tears.

"No," Peter shook his head. "They don't have her -not anymore at least. -Didn't you hear what they were sayin'? She's gone. Someone broke her out a couple of days ago."

Wanda massaged her temple with her fingertips. "So she's out there… but now she's missing! We- we have to help her!"

Peter put a gentle hand on his sister's shoulder. This time, she didn't flinch away. "She'll be alright, Wanda. Nora can take care of herself -Just trust me. ...And if she doesn't want to be found, I don't think we'll be able to find her."

"But- but how can you be so sure!?" Wanda stuttered, her face turning angry again. _"You're_ the reason she was taken away in the first place! The last thing I should be doing right now is listening to you! I need to be out there-" She stopped as Peter held up his hand.

He sighed, "You remember those three guys that came here last Friday?"

.

 **Thoughts?**


	39. Chapter 37Chapter 39

**A/N: *gasps* An _early_ update!? What is this sorcery? Well, as it happens, I probably wouldn't have enough time tomorrow, so I pulled my shit together for you people and was able to do it today *wipes forehead* Jk, jk; it wasn't _that_ much work ;) **

**Thank you, thank you, thank you! So many people have read this story, and even if you haven't followed, favourited, or reviewed, thank you for reading it! 3 3 3**

SaoirseTheSelkie: **Yes, Peter and Nora will meet again. And at the end of this chapter, I'll be explaining Danielle's importance :)**

K.J. Bollinger: **Thank you for reading! :D**

gracedreamcloud: **So happy that you loved them! *shoves laptop towards you* So here's some more!**

RainMusic (Guest): **Well it's your lucky day! (Week?) Since I updated early this time XD And don't worry, Nora and Peter will meet again ;) (Though their relationship will take a little longer to repair…)**

anonymouscsifan: **The older Nora** _ **did**_ **die to save everyone; but that was in the** _ **future.**_ **So technically, as I so 'elegantly' put it, her actions in the past can take place in** _ **any**_ **order. ie. she meets up with Nora in 1973,** _ **then**_ **goes back to the 1930's where Nora will also be. It's like every part of time is simultaneously co-existing. (Hope that makes a little sense? XD) Yep, Magda and Erik's 'parental protectiveness' took over in these last two chapters ;) And it's a good thought, that Stryker could've been one of the men to show up in Silver Spring; but at that point in DoFP, he's with Trask -I think. Also: there'll be an explanation to Danielle's importance at the end of this chapter. Thank you, as always :)**

MusicLovingPunkAnimeGirl: **Gaaah! I'm sorry, I'm terrible at ending chapters :( But I'm glad that you loved the double update :)**

C.B. Weasley: **Yep, everything kind went full circle with Danielle there *wink wink* Thank you for reading and reviewing :)**

Adrillian1497: **(Thank you: what you said in your review made me SO happy.) Oh dear, I hope your mind isn't** _ **too**_ **blown apart that you can't read this next update! Haha, I'm so funny… Anyways, here's the next chapter! :)**

CaptainCumberbatch: **YES! Someone finally got how I was writing the Older Nora! Though I wouldn't exactly say that she was 'rubbing it in Nora's face' about Danielle being alive (sorry if it came off that way…) And she would've hit Peter more, except Erik hauled her away with his powers, and Logan shocked her into unconsciousness with his knowing of the date. -Sorry if all of this is coming off rude, I'm just trying to explain some things :( - And Older Nora couldn't have gone back herself, (she can only use Charles' help within that one century) She knew that her younger self would be traveling back on that specific day, so she tagged along. *phew* Thank you for all of your insight, hopefully this explains some things ;)**

Queen (Guest): **Mwahahaha! *grins evilly* And you shall NEVER know wha is to happen next! :) 3 (So just don't stop reading XD)**

AnnaleeSmith (Guest): **I agree with you that time travel is an overpowered mutation to have, that's why I put some restraints on Nora. ie. she can't control it, it HURTS to time travel, etc. Also, when time is paused and such, Nora still ages. (A fact that I plan to address in the future.)** **And finally, I guess I do realize that staying in the same place when one time travels makes more sense… I've just always perceived it that way XD (Like Hiro Nakamura from the show 'Heroes' if you've watched it.)** **Thank you for your thoughts :)**

 **A** **nd finally: there's a 'special' author's not at the end of this chapter. It explains Danielle's importance to the 'changing of the timelines.'**

Chapter 37/Chapter 39

 _January 31st, 1973. Silver Spring, Maryland._

 _"Folks, as I am reporting, live from our nation's capital of Washington D.C., there seems to be a sort of disturbance amongst the giant 'ro-bots' the president has unveiled. And… Oh my, they are… they're firing on the crowd!"_

The news reporter's voice turned into a shrill scream, and the camera toppled over, abandoned as those manning it ran for their lives.

Peter stopped in the middle of the living room. He had been about to head downstairs, but then he'd actually _looked_ at the TV.

There were giant robots on the screen (and they weren't fake), which looked like they were firing their weapons at the crowd of people gathered outside the Whitehouse. Judging by the shaky camera angles and all the screaming, Peter guessed that something had gone very, _very_ wrong.

"Ma! Brygit!?" He called out, settling down onto the carpet. Peter usually wasn't one for politics… but this surpassed the norm of intrigue.

"What is it?" His mother came from the kitchen, cheeks rose from the hot dishwater.

"Look." Peter pointed at the television.

Both of them went silent as a man flew -floated, really- into the frame. He was dressed in dark red, with a long cape and menacing helmet.

Both mother and son recognized the man. -Both for entirely different reasons.

For Peter, it was a familiar face. One belonging to the man he'd broken out of the Pentagon just four days ago. He had _never_ suspected that his actions would be the influence of all this destruction.

For Magda, the sight of Erik brought back memories she hadn't dwelled on for many years… Some good… most were bad.

Brygit burst into the living room then. Her hair was messy and she was out of breath. Obviously she'd been running in the forest again.

Magda guided her to Peter, hand firmly gripping her shoulder.

She looked up, almost frightened by the stern look on her mother's face.

"Stay here with your brother," she ordered. Peter could clearly tell that the 'stay here' was directed more towards him.

As Brygit clamored into Peter's lap, Magda went in search of her third child.

She wasn't in the kitchen, nor her attic bedroom. Magda finally checked the backyard, and it was there that she found Wanda.

The troubled young woman was hiding in the maple tree. A place she hadn't gone to for quite a while. Ever since she'd fallen and broken her arm, Wanda had rarely come close to the tree.

It was also Nora's favourite place to hang out, Magda remembered.

 _Nora._ For the longest time Magda had thought the brunette would have been the person to _finally_ bring the twins back together.

"Wanda!" She called up to her daughter. "Would you please come down?"

But then Nora and Peter had become… more than friends.

Magda could never hate Nora for that.

"What?" She asked, "Why?"

"There's… something." Magda wasn't sure what to tell her. _The man I used to call your father is commanding an army of robots in an attack on the Whitehouse?_ "Please, just _come down."_

Wanda sighed exasperatedly, poking her head out into view. "I'm _fine_ up here, Ma. I promise I won't break anything this time." She quirked a sort of half-smile.

Magda frowned, "It's not that. I just need-"

"-Need what?" Wanda interjected. "What do you need _now,_ Mum? I've studied enough for tonight; I helped with dinner, made Brygit get some exercise, I've been civil with Peter for the past two days, _and_ it's my first day off work in _five_ days. So _what…_ what do you need?"

"I'm sorry," Magda apologized, retreating back into the house. "I'll leave you alone now."

Wanda had a terrible feeling in her stomach as she watched her mother walk away.

Ever since Peter had explained everything to her (that included the whole 'my-girlfriend's-future-self-came-back-in-time-and-told-me-to-get-her-arrested' thing) Wanda and him had been on _relatively_ decent terms.

It had been quite a shock-filled revelation, and there was still no way Wanda would forgive either of them outright for excluding her for so long… but Wanda was readyto start to try understanding.

Once Peter had told her Nora was free - _not_ being held captive in a government base anymore. Wanda had ceased her midnight information raids. She had gotten rid of all the info she'd gathered over the past seven months, and now she resigned herself to waiting.

Waiting… for Nora's return.

Wanda knew it was of little possibility; (after _all_ that had happened) but she still didn't give up hope that Nora would come back.

Wanda stared grimly out at the forest that bordered their neighbourhood.

Then suddenly, she sensed something.

The feelings and sensation of something alive out in the forest… and _moving._ Quickly. Towards their house.

Wanda heard the tell-tale crackle of someone stomping through the brush, then the usual creak of their back gate being opened.

She nimbly scaled down the tree, hands barely brushing the trunk as she mainly used her telekinesis to support herself.

Wanda held out her hands, fingers stretched, summoning a weapon to her.

Within seconds, Brygit's plastic garden trowel was in her grip. She wielded it threateningly, eyes squinted in the late afternoon sunlight.

"Who's there?" She called, slowly turning towards the fence that bordered their backyard. "I'm armed… so you better come out!"

More footsteps. Slower this time; more wary of her.

The figure was just ten feet away from her now, face partially obscured in a tree's shade. Slowly, they inched towards Wanda.

"Show me your face," Wanda said, trying to keep her voice steady. _So I can bash it in._

They reached out a shaking hand towards her, and then, finally stepped into the light.

"W- W- ...Wanda..." Her voice was raspy from not speaking for days.

It was her. It was Nora.

Her hair was disheveled and looked like it hadn't been combed in a week. Her eyelids drooped -possibly from lack of sleep- and they were puffy and ringed with red.

Like she'd been crying.

Clothes muddy and torn. One shoe missing, glasses clenched in her left hand.

It _was_ Nora. But not the same one she had befriended.

They were inches apart now, and Nora moved to touch Wanda.

She was something familiar. Something sturdy, constant… and stable.

But Wanda took a step back, evading her friend's contact.

A hurt expression came across Nora's face, and her posture deflated a little.

"Hi," Wanda said, amused by her own nonchalance.

Nora's lips parted, but no sounds came out. She only stared up at Wanda with her big, brown eyes.

Wanda sighed, "Come inside, I guess."

Nora followed her in.

.

Magda peered around the corner into the living room. She could not believe what she was seeing on the screen

Actually, she could.

Magda had been young and naive when she and Erik had first met. He had been relatively quiet and a bit of a recluse back then.

She did not find out about his past until a month before he left.

He had become obsessed with finding this 'Shaw' and eventually there had been one night where his actions had escalated beyond acceptable.

Magda had never told him about her pregnancy.

She'd almost been glad to see him go.

And, powers or not, she would fight tooth and nail to keep him from _ever_ hurting her babies.

 _"_ _Humanity has always feared that which is different. Well I'm here to tell you, to tell the world: you're right to fear us. We_ are _the future."_

Erik's voice struck her through the TV screen, bringing Magda back to a time before all this. When she'd been a very different person.

Wanda was momentarily thankful for whatever was keeping her family's eyes glued to the TV. This gave her a chance to sneak Nora in unnoticed.

She lead her to the kitchen, sitting her down on a stool before pouring her a glass of water,

"Stay here," she told Nora, who only nodded meekly.

Wanda went into the living room to see what was just _so_ important.

And _holy shit_ she had missed a lot.

Some guy in red was throwing some other guy around. Throwing, _without touching him._

The guy being thrown around disappeared out of the camera shot, and then there was some blue creature.

She assumed it was a he, and he was wearing ripped clothes, and had a lot of hair.

Wanda felt her eyes drawn back to the mad man orchestrating this all. It was intense, almost insane -the amount of power he possessed.

Wanda watched in awe as the man seemed to coax something out from under the Whitehouse. A large box revealed to be filled with men. -All of them were probably important political figures, though Wanda only recognized the President.

 _How brave our leaders are,_ she thought. _Hiding in their historical mansions._

Her mother gasped as the President made the bold move to step out into the open. He stood there, unarmed, facing off against the brilliant mad man.

Wanda was just about to ask Peter to turn up the volume when there was a beep and then the screen turned to static. After a moment, the static switched to multicoloured stripes, a 'please stand by' notice on the screen. Wanda's attention had already dissipated.

Brygit too, had grown restless. She complained to Peter to turn it back on.

Magda's clenched fists were the only signs of her otherwise calm demeanor.

"Wanda," she said carefully. "Take your sister and go to your room."

"Um… Mom..." Wanda knew this possibly wasn't the best time, but there really couldn't be any beating around the bush when it came to the supposed 'felon' sitting in their kitchen. "You see… there's this thing-"

"-Wanda! For once will you please just listen to me!" There was a frightened look in Magda's eyes; one Wanda hadn't seen before. "I know you are going through some 'rebellious teen phase' right now, and trust me: it's not as easy for me as you might think! But there's a _terrorist_ attack going on in our country's capital right now, so would you _please_ take Brygit somewhere away from the TV."

Wanda hung her head. Now was the perfect time to apologize, but there was something more important that needed to be said.

"I'll do that, Mom, I promise," she said meekly. "But… Um… You should probably know… Nora's, um… back."

Magda's face went blank. She kept her emotions -her fear and anger- hidden from Wanda.

The agents had been right in predicting Nora's return. They'd just been a little too early.

"Alright then," she nodded her head. "Perhaps I'll ask _Peter_ to take Brygit downstairs. And you can take… your _guest_ to your room."

Wanda nodded, thanking her Mother. She got the gist of what she was saying: even if Brygit meant no harm, she might not be able to keep the secret right away if Nora's presence was discovered.

"Thank you, Mum. And… and," Wanda took a deep breath. "I'm sorry how I've been acting lately. I've been such a shit to you..."

Wanda didn't expect her Mother to say anything, but the hug she was given was good enough.

.

"You can stay up there for now," Wanda said as she pointed to the attic's trap door. "Take all the time you need. Maybe a shower? You smell awful."

Nora gave her a small smile of thanks before heading into the second-floor bathroom.

She stripped down and stepped into the shower, turning the knob until the water was scalding hot. The high temperature turned her skin red, but she didn't care.

Nora didn't care about much right now.

.

Wanda watched apprehensively as Nora closed the door behind her. She was a mess -that much was obvious. But just how _much_ of a mess… Wanda wasn't sure.

The black-haired teen barely twitched as Peter appeared next to her. After ten years of him doing that, she had gotten used to it.

He stared almost longingly at the closed bathroom door, the sounds of the shower being turned on escaping it.

With or without her empathic senses, Wanda could _feel_ the hormones radiating off him.

"Mind out of the gutter, _Pietro,"_ She said, punching him in the arm.

"Ow!" He rubbed the 'assaulted' area, giving her an unimpressed look. "Really, Wanda? You think I'm _that_ low of a person?"

She rolled her eyes, "You've done little to disprove the notion."

He sighed, "I know… How am I going to make it up to her?"

Wanda snorted as they began to make their way down the stairs. "You really think it's going to be an easy break-up-make-up? You _betrayed_ her, Peter. You broke her heart. And hearts don't heal easily..."

"Well yours seems alright," he said off-handedly, immediately regretting it after the look she gave him.

"As I was saying," she continued on. "Even if you _do_ explain the whole 'future-self' things to her, and even if she _does_ believe you -that will never erase the six months she was kept in prison! -The _Pentagon_ of all places!" _That shit only happens on TV._ Wanda took a deep breath and said, "And that will _definitely_ not take away that _crushing_ feeling of deception you 'oh-so-willingly' deposited on her."

As she went silent, Peter asked, "You done?"

"No." She shook her head sharply. "Not now -not ever. I cared about Nora _before_ you did -and that gives me a one-up on you. I don't care _how_ bitchy that sounds," she said, ignoring the stare Peter was giving her. "-but it's the truth. If she wants to recover from this, she'll come to _me_ first, definitely not _you."_

"Alright." Peter held his hands up in surrender. "I get it… you'll help her. And _if_ she ever comes to me… she'll do it on her own time." He didn't mention how at the airfield Nora had seemed relatively okay. -Pissed off, but not trying to beat him up anymore. But what had happened in Paris?

"You'll tell me, right?" He asked. "-If she says anything important?"

Wanda turned to go back upstairs as she heard the shower turn off.

"Yeah," she said, not looking back. "Of course."

.

.

.

Nora'd had to refuse three times before Wanda conceded to let her sleep on the floor.

She knew that the bed was a million times more comfortable, but Nora also knew that she hadn't slept more than four hours a day since she had left Paris. If she slept on the floor, near the attic's trap door, there was less of a chance she'd wake Wanda if she need to get out of there.

For most of the nights, Nora lay awake, listening to the sounds of the world. Sometimes she would wander the house, sometimes climbing up the tree outside.

But a few weeks later, around one in the morning, it happened -worse than all the other times.

Nora woke -silently, for once- from one of her nightmares. She knew it hadn't been real. They were unpredictable, impossible situations.

But still, it was frightening.

Wanda -who was snoring peacefully- didn't even stir as she opened the trap door and scaled down the ladder.

Nora crept through the house's second-floor hallway, tip-toeing down the stairs to the kitchen.

She filled up a glass with water, dropping a few ice cubes in it before sitting down at the dining table.

Head in her hands, Nora massaged her temple with her fingertips.

The nightmares… they just wouldn't go away… Though they weren't really nightmares… just the worst from other peoples' memories. Loss of family, war, desertion of friends, forced evacuation of their homeland, destruction of self-property. They always left a sickly feeling in her stomach, one that she couldn't shake off, no matter how hard she tried.

Her stomach swelled up in her throat and Nora felt tears beginning to prick at her eyes.

 _No. You_ can't _cry. Not here. Not now._

There was a sudden gust of wind that blew her hair back. She heard someone walk into the dining room.

Nora looked up, blinking the tears away.

It was Peter.

He had on some loose pants and a t-shirt. Neither item matched. His hair was messy and unkempt, like he had just rolled out of bed.

 _He probably just did,_ Nora assumed.

"Hey, are you alright?" He asked, taking a step towards her. _So much for letting Wanda do the recovery therapy. Hopefully she stays asleep._

"I'm fine," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "Whadda you want?" She stood up, stretching as tall as she could to face him.

"I don't want anything," he said. "I'm just worried about you. You're up almost every night, Nora. -I hear you walking around the house, even if no one else does..."

"Well aren't you sweet."

This was a strange contrast from her usual dinnertime silences. "I mean it, Nora." He was getting closer to her now, and Nora wasn't sure how comfortable she was with that. "Something happened in Paris, something happened to you… something's changed."

 _Yeah,_ she scoffed internally. _Maybe, like, oh I don't know… causing the DEATH of_ _my_ _own SISTER?!_

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "What do you want, Peter?" She repeated. "You said you're worried; is that all?"

He was quite close to her now, and she had backed up into the wall.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I am so, so, _so_ sorry..."

She frowned, "That's it? A simpering _apology?_ That's _all_ I get?" She laughed, "Well, _newsflash,_ Peter: it's gonna take a _lot_ more than that to make up for what was done to me in there!"

"I can explain!" he exclaimed, at the same time thinking _what was done to her?_ She pushed him away as he said, "Something happened… It- it wasn't my fault!"

She scoffed, "Yeah, right." Then she snapped her fingers and was gone.

"No," Peter said to the ground. "No!" She was probably back with Wanda now and there was no way he could go to her there.

He slammed his fist down onto the dining table, crying out as he did so.

"Why… Why me..."

.

.

.

The next morning, Nora entered the kitchen with a determined look on her face.

"I'm leaving," she announced, stirring the Maximoffs from their breakfasts.

Wanda was the first to react, scraping her chair across the floor as she stood up.

"What? Why?"

Nora sighed, hefting her backpack over one shoulder. "I heard you talking the other day. Why didn't you tell me about the agents who came looking for me?"

"Nora..." Wanda said. "It's not a problem, they won't be back-"

"Yes it is," Nora argued. "I'm putting you all in danger!"

One look to Magda confirmed her agreement with Nora on the subject

"But- but where will you go?" Wanda looked to her siblings, hoping they would back her on this. Peter seemed deeply invested in his cereal, thinking over the events of the previous evening, while Brygit was reading a picture book. "You can't just _leave!"_

"Well, I am." Nora had some idea of where she would go. She'd gotten it from a business card that Charles had dropped. It had detailed a 'school for gifted youngsters'. "And you're _not_ going to stop me."

Wanda followed her out the back door, "Fine! But if you're going to leave, then _at least_ I'm going to help you."

"How?" Nora drawled.

"Where do you need to go?" Wanda asked, holding her hand out. "Just let me help you… _please."_

"You have a car?" Nora raised an eyebrow.

Wanda shrugged, "Peter brought one home when he got back from bustin' you out."

Nora snorted, "You mean the _rental car_ Charles told him to return?"

"Guess so." Wanda shrugged, then said, "-Hey, who's Charles?"

.

.

.

They flew down the freeway, dodging in-between the stopped cars.

"I'm not sure how I feel about this," Wanda said slowly, eyeing Nora's finger that remained on her shoulder. "Doesn't this count as cheating?"

"Eyes on the road," Nora reminded her. "And no. It isn't cheating. Is it cheating when Peter runs halfway across the country to get some pizza?"

"..No?"

"Correct: then it's not cheating when I pause time to skip past traffic."

"It's just weird," Wanda muttered. ""Being with you when time's paused really freaks me out!"

Nora chuckled quietly as they flew past a yellow school bus chock-full of kids.

It was a long drive to through the state, but in reality, no time had passed at all.

Wanda eventually turned off in the direction that Nora pointed her in. (They had figured out the route over one of Magda's old maps.)

"Westchester sure is different," Wanda marveled.

Slowing down as they came upon the big, metal gate, her eyes opened even further.

"Whoa… That is _some_ house."

Nora couldn't help but agree; the Xavier mansion was… beautiful.

Wanda pulled the car around a cul-de-sac, stopping in front of the main entrance.

Nora was about to get out when Wanda announced that she would be coming with her.

"-Just, you know, to check the place out. ...Gotta make sure it's safe an' all." 

"Don't you have a bio test tomorrow?" Nora asked.

She shrugged it off, "Well… yeah -but I'll be fine!"

 _"Sure_ you will… It's not like you're _already_ skipping school today to take this lovely road trip..."

A surprised Hank greeted them at the door, and they followed them inside.

"Surprised to see me?" Nora asked cautiously.

"Yes, actually," Hank replied. "I assume you saw what happened in DC..."

She nodded, "But, I didn't see _you_ there."

He stopped at this, but then continued on, remembering that _she_ didn't know.

"Well… you know." He left the subject behind, "The school is getting a bit of a… reboot, if you will. Ever since what occurred in DC, we've been rebuilding."

Wanda turned in a circle as they walked through the foyer. "Wow..."

It certainly was a beautiful place -and with so much energy!

A couple of kids ran by, disrupting their path to Charles' office. They giggled and laughed as they chased one another down the stairs.

As Hank called after them to be careful, Nora noticed how one boy's feet didn't quite touch the ground.

They passed a blond-haired girl tending some flowers. She looked up and made eye contact with Hank, smiling before she returned to her plants.

When they came upon what Nora assumed was Charles' office, Hank motioned for them to wait.

"He's seeing someone else for the moment; I'll let him know you're here."

The moment he shut the door behind him, Wanda turned to Nora excitedly and whispered, "I'm going to go and explore -you gonna stay here?"

"Yeah," Nora said, nodding for Wanda to get going. "You go and enjoy yourself."

Wanda practically skipped away, a look of pure joy and curiosity on her face.

Nora sighed in relief as she turned the corner. She slumped down into a chair outside the door.

She rubbed her eyes, _How you've managed to keep it together for this long, Nora, is a miracle in itself._

She was so tired, so troubled… She just needed somewhere safe to stay -somewhere she wouldn't be suspected to go and somewhere the Maximoff's safety wouldn't be put at risk.

So, she waited.

.

 **So: any fans of The Flash out there? Well I take Danielle's existence akin to that of Barry Allen's mother. When she dies: the world is as we know it. When she is alive: many things have changed, thus causing an alternate universe.**

 **I have some ideas for a few AU one-shots/short stories. In those, I'll go more in-depth in the Older Nora's world and story.**


	40. Chapter 38Chapter 40

**A/N: Thank you to all of those who read the last update :) I hope you like this chapter!**

K.J. Bollinger: **Thank you! I actually** _ **just**_ **realized the similarity between that and the Flash's storyline, so yeah; it's a cool example :)**

gracedreamcloud: **Real, full-on screaming fight? Weeeelll… maybe… ;) Thank you for reading this story, I'm so glad you love it :)**

anonymouscsifan: **Yeah, you're totally right about the possibility of Stryker, I just kind forgot about him XD And yeah, Peter and Wanda's relationship was one I wanted to 'repair' as soon as possible. Nora tore them apart, but she also (kind of) brought them back together. -And yes! Lots of hugs for Peter; he's just a pawn in all this :( Thank you for continuing to read this :) 3**

C.B. Weasley: **Thank you so much! Here's the next one! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I. Don't. Own. X-Men.**

Chapter 38/Chapter 40

 _February 20th, 1973. Westchester NY._

The door opened suddenly, and a blond-haired man walked out, quickly followed by Hank.

Green, army pants swishing as he walked, Hank pointed at Nora to go in before following the man.

Nora stood up slowly, dusting herself off before she went in.

Charles was sitting behind his desk, and it wasn't until he _rolled_ around that Nor noticed the state he was in.

"What happened to you?!" Nora exclaimed in shock.

Charles stopped and stared at her. "What do you mean?" He asked. She must've- Then it dawned on him: _she didn't know._

"Just- just a few weeks ago you- you were standing and- and walking!" Nora gestured hap-hazardously at his legs. "And now-"

Charles held up a hand, "Please, Nora. _Relax._ At that time I was using a serum to restore the function of my legs. And now… Well, I've returned them to their original state, for lack of better words."

"Oh," Nora said simply.

Charles could _feel_ the fatigue coming off of her -telepath or not. She had come here… for his help?

"Please, sit," he offered. She gratefully collapsed into the chair facing his desk.

"You've certainly been busy," Nora mused, looking around at his office. "I thought the school was closed..."

"It was," Charles said, glancing to the open window where they could hear the delighted screams of the children playing outside. "-For far too long, I must add. ...I assume you saw the events of D.C.?"

Nora cocked her head, "Heard about it. -Wait? Were you there!?"

He quirked a sad smile. "Yes.. we were. -As you can see, a lot of things have changed since then. Me… Hank, the school..."

Nora sensed that the evens at D.C. weren't something he was too eager to talk about.

"And it's barely been a month!" Nora marveled. "How were you able to get so much done?!"

Charles smiled -completely this time. "We put everything we had into this place. All it needed was a bit of cleaning up -and a _few_ repairs."

"It's amazing," Nora said, then she suddenly went quiet.

She hung her head, twiddling her thumbs.

Charles hadn't yet read her mind; he had a feeling that she wanted help -and doing that would only scare her off.

"Are you alright Nora?" He asked, sending peaceful vibes her way.

She shrugged, "I'm okay… Still getting used to being outside, I guess..." Then she frowned, sending a gust of air out her nostrils. "I- I need to ask something of you. And I know- I know we barely know each other… Hell, we were together on a plane for five hours -most of which I slept off… But I- I didn't know where else to turn..."

Charles leaned forwards in his wheelchair, "Of course I'll help you. -Whatever you need."

She raised an eyebrow at his willingness, "Thank you… And, well… if it's not too much trouble… could I just stay here for a little while?"

Charles sat back in his wheelchair. _That was it?_ _That's all she wanted. -A place to stay?_

 _Well perhaps you should be relieved,_ he told himself. _She could have asked for a lot more!_

"Of course you can stay here," he breathed, chuckling quietly to break the room's gathering tension.

"Really?" Nora asked. _He seems so sure! "Are_ you sure?"

"Oh, I can't see _you_ being a problem," Charles replied. "And I certainly can't say we don't have the room!"

Nora smiled and visibly relaxed, her shoulders dropping a little.

 _Now don't get_ too _attached,_ the annoying voice in her head crooned. _You need to get moving, remember? Out and away from these people's lives._

Nora made a face, knowing that the voice was right. She couldn't stay here long, no matter how tempting it was.

"I really just need a few days… to get my act together an' all," she assured Charles.

 _That was certainly an odd change of heart,_ Charles thought.

"Well take all the time you need," he told her. "There's no need to rush off."

"Thank you." She stood up briskly, holding out her hand for Charles to shake. He took it, eyebrows raised.

He then put a finger to his temple. He smiled, "It looks like your friend is getting very impatient. "She's just outside, actually."

 _You can let her in, Eden._ Just as he sent the thought, Wanda burst into the office, followed by the blonde-haired girl from earlier.

"I'm sorry, Professor!" She exclaimed, clearly trying to stop Wanda from barging in any further. "I tried telling her that you were busy -but she. Wouldn't. Take. No!" She cried out as Wanda gave her one last shove, "-For an answer..."

He smiled, only just containing his laughter, "It's alright, Eden. She's a friend of Nora's here."

The blonde -Eden- looked a bit discouraged.

"If you're _absolutely sure,"_ she said, looking suspiciously over Nora and Wanda.

"I'm sure, Eden."

After the blond left, Wanda looked from Nora to the man who she assumed was 'Charles.'

"So… What's going on then?"

Nora put a hand on her shoulder, "I'm gonna stay here for now, Wanda. It's safer that way -so your family won't be compromised."

"Oh." Wanda deflated. "So is this goodbye?"

"I- I don't know… I'm sure you can visit?" Nora looked to Charles, who nodded hurriedly. "Yeah… Then I guess I'll see you around-"

Nora's voice caught in her throat as her head was hit with a reeling surge of dizziness. She held onto the chair to stabilize herself and-

As soon as it came, the feeling was gone.

"Are you alright?" Wanda asked, eyes wide.

Both the telepath and the empath had felt a negative surge of energy come off of Nora. And both of them now stared at her intently, waiting to see if anything else would happen.

"What?...Oh, yeah, I'm fine… Just… tired, I guess."

Nora walked with Wanda down to the car. They said their goodbyes. Although, it was more of a 'see you later' than a goodbye'.

Hank and Charles watched them from the office as Wanda drove away. Nora stared after her; Charles could caught glimpses of her very guarded thoughts. He sensed a great break dividing her mind. That, and a swelling regret.

"She needs help," Charles said in reference to Nora. "But I don't know if she's willing."

"You'll have to find out.," Hank said. Then he frowned, eyes focusing in on the car driving away in the distance. "Is that the rental car we told Peter to return?"

.

.

"Eden'll show you to your room," Hank formally introduced Nora to the blond.

"Nice to meet you," Eden said, holding her hand out.

Nora took it warily, sensing that there was an 'I guess' at the end of that sentence.

"Follow me," she said curtly.

As she spun on the toe of her dress shoe, Nora noticed the cross hanging from her neck.

Eden was dressed in a simple blouse and conservative, white leggings. The only part of her that even _murmured_ 'flair' was the dark green skirt that swished around her knees.

She walked quickly; Nora had to pick up her own pace in order to stay in stride with her.

"So, you're a mutant," Eden announced as they turned a particularly sharp corner. "Though I guess that's a rhetorical question: we're _all_ mutants here."

"Um… okay?" Nora wasn't quite sure what to make of her. She seemed… decisive; to the point.

She tried to start a conversation. "So. Um, _Eden…_ Have you been here long?"

Eden gave her a look, the girl's blue eyes cutting into Nora's. She wasn't looking at her in a judgmental way… She was just… serious?

"I was the first one Professor Xavier found. -After the events of D.C., of course."

Eden straightened up a bit as she said this. Being the 'first recruited' was a fact she seemed to be quite proud of.

"So… about a few weeks then?"

Nora hadn't meant to sound condescending: it had just come out that way.

Eden's shoulders sagged at this. She didn't say another word until they got to the room.

"Ta-daaa," Eden intoned sarcastically. "Your room."

Nora stepped around her through the doorway. There were two beds, both neatly made. But there seemed to be a few extra things surrounding the one closest to the window.

"Um… Are you sure this is the right one?" Nora asked, pointing to the occupied side of the room. "It looks like someone's already in here."

Eden moved past her to primly sit on the bed. "Oh? Did Hank not mention it? They're still fixing up some of the other rooms… so we're sharing for now!"

If Nora had been interested in making _even more_ of a fool of herself, she would have face-palmed right then and there.

 _First you insult the girl who's meant to show you around. Then you insult the_ same girl _who's your roommate! Way to go, Nora!_

Needless to say, the rest of the day was _pretty damn awkward._

 _They seem to be getting along well,_ Hank thought to Charles from across the dining table.

 _You_ really _think so?_ Charles raised an eyebrow, noting how Eden had been glaring in Nora's direction for the entire meal thus far.

 _Of course not! What do you think went wrong?_

 _First impressions can be rather influential, Hank…_ Charles saw how awkward and ashamed Nora seemed this evening and assumed that she'd said something -though probably by accident.

Over the next few weeks, Nora was introduced to the other students, as well as the subjects she could take.

The classes Nora could care less about, it was the other mutants she was interested in!

There was Lian, a quiet Asian girl from the coast. She only _really_ talked telepathically to her animal friends. (She favored the birds.)

Freddie had webbed hands and feet -no gills- and was obviously able to swim very fast. He spent most of his time working on restoring the pool. He appreciated the help that was given to him, but was just as happy to work on his own.

There was also one set of twins. They were fraternal; one boy, and one girl. Margarate was able to jump over ten feet in the air! And Will… Well, Will didn't have a mutation -yet. 'It remained dormant, for now' as Charles would put it.

There were others, and including Alex, Hank and Charles there were fourteen members of the Xavier mansion all-together.

Nora found herself delving into the life here. She was acing all her classes, and eventually Charles had her taking some by correspondence via a nearby university.

Her traveling came and went, (South Africa, 1652; New Orleans, 1837; Somewhere in Israel, time un-discoverable) and whenever her nose bled, or her head started to hurt, there was a quiet (and lock-able) room set aside for her.

Charles was halfway to convincing her to start _teaching_ an ancient civilizations class, when it dawned on her.

Nora had been here for a month. Four weeks; thirty days: a whole, _entire_ month.

"Nora, is everything alright?" Charles asked. She looked as if she had just recalled something quite shocking.

"What? Who? Oh, no Charles. -I mean Professor -with a capital 'P'! I'm- I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" He asked, placing one hand on the armrest of his wheelchair. "You know that you can tell me anything, right?"

"Yes," she assured him. "Can I actually get back to you on that whole 'teaching' thing?"

"Of course," he smiled and she was excused.

Eden walked in on Nora later that day. The brunette was sitting cross-legged on her twin bed, surrounded by papers. Some were handwritten pages of notes, but others looked like official documents.

Nora was paused in front of a world map that she'd spread out in front of her. She examined it scrutinously, one finger idly tapping her chin.

"What's this?" Eden asked, picking up one of the papers. "'Birth certificate for Grace Burnaby'… Who's _Grace Burnaby?"_

"That's nothing! She's no one!" Nora snapped, yanking the forged documents out of her clutches.

Eden sniffed, insulted, then stalked out of their shared bedroom.

 _Oh dear… If she told_ anyone _-anyone at all! Charles would definitely find out…_

Nora searched high and low for Eden, but she couldn't find her! She _finally_ showed up for dinner, but wouldn't even _look_ in Nora's direction.

Charles noticed the tension between them, but said nothing.

When the dinner table had been cleared off, Nora realized that Eden had already slipped away.

That was odd, especially for her, to pass up on an opportunity to boss the other kids around.

Nora knew that she didn't mean to be bossy. Eden's overbearing den-mother act just came across that way.

By ten PM that night, Nora was growing desperate. Eden hadn't come back to their room since that afternoon, so she looked in the _last_ possible place Nora could think of.

Surprisingly enough, she _did_ find Eden on the roof.

She was smoking a cigarette -something Nora wouldn't have expected of her.

"Hey," Nora greeted her roommate, sitting down next to her. The blond had taken off her dress shoes, letting her feet hang precariously over the edge.

Eden glanced in Nora's direction; that was all the recognition she was given.

"Listen," Nora tried. "I know we got off to a rough start… I didn't mean to be rude on that first day… So, I'm sorry for offending you."

It took so long for Eden to answer her, that Nora thought for a moment that she hadn't heard her.

"Sure… Whatever, I guess." Eden paused, holding out the cigarette for Nora to take. "One question: what's with all the 'mysterious papers.'"

Nora took a drag of the smoke before answering. She'd never actually smoked before, but someone else's instincts knew how to properly do it so she would not have a coughing fit.

"I'm going to run away," she said simply.

"Oh," Eden said, then stared at her. "I didn't know you smoked."

Nora shook her head, "I don't. But Timothy Walker does… And Gillian Macready… And Alexi Winstrid..."

Eden laughed uncomfortably, "Alright then… So, where do you plan to go?"

"Not really sure." Nora shrugged. "Japan, maybe. I'm thinking of going international..."

"Huh… Well, you should probably let the Professor know. -And the kids, too. They'll be crushed if you left without saying goodbye… More-so than if _I_ did..."

Nora was taken aback at what she said. Was Eden… _jealous_ of her? She couldn't be! That was impossible!

But if she thought about her actions in that light… things started to make sense.

"Right..." Nora said. "Yeah, I'll probably have to do that… Didn't think anyone would ever miss me, really..."

Eden laughed, "You're joking, right?" Nora stared at her. "You're not joking. Well then _daaayyymn,_ girl; who raised you to believe in _that_ bullshit?"

"That's just it, I guess… I've been on my own since I was six..."

"Oh.." Eden's voice went low. _"Wow._ You mean, like, 'on-your-own', on-your-own?"

"Yep."

"That sucks."

"Yep."

Eden waited another minute before saying anything else. "Well, I guess there's _something_ we have in common… My parents were never really there for me either."

Curious, Nora asked, "How so?"

Eden consciously touched the silver cross hanging from her neck. "It's not easy for the daughter of a _very_ devoted pastor to be a mutant… _and_ a lesbian."

 _Oh,_ Nora thought. _Wow._

Eden looked at her, gauging her reaction.

But all Nora said was, "Then how are you here? Do they know about your powers?"

"Oh no! NO, no, no, _no."_ Eden laughed it off. "I grew up being taught that people like me were freaks… unworthy in the 'all-seeing' eyes of God. Oh no… My parents think I was chosen to go to a young ladies' prepatory academy on a scholarship… They'll _never_ find out the truth about me."

Nora couldn't imagine what it would've been like for Eden. Growing up in a household like _that._ Having to hide _everything_ about yourself…

"You seem pretty chill with me, um… _liking girls_ an' all that," Eden said.

Nora shrugged, "Well, you know, it's not a big deal to me. You're still _you."_

Eden smiled, "Yeah, I guess I still am."

.

.

.

A few days later, Wanda came to visit.

The other time she'd shown up, Nora had been off traveling in New Orleans during the first officially documented Mardi Gras. (1837)

Today she ran -almost literally- into the blond girl from before.

The blond stared at her with round blue eyes, a peachy blush spreading across her face.

"Oh! It's you… from before!" She stuttered. "Are you looking for- for Nora?"

"Um… yeah." Wanda wasn't known for having such a frightening effect on people. What was this chick's name again? Something with an 'E'?

"Um, yeah… About that… Well, I'll just take you to where she is."

Wanda followed her up two sets of stairs and down a long hallway before she finally got fed up.

"What's going on here? Can't you just tell me where No-"

"Shhh," Eden said and motioned to what was in the room.

She moved aside, and Wanda saw what was inside.

Nora sat at the grand piano, fingers dancing deftly across the keys. Her head hung loose, but swung in rhythm with the song.

A few others had also heard the haunting music from around the mansion, and soon there was a small crowd gathered just outside the door.

The tune Nora played was grim and mournful -yet completely mesmerizing. It conveyed a series of frightening emotions through its varying measures. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow.

They stayed there, completely still and quiet. The group of onlookers revered in the erie melody for nearly five minutes.

It ended suddenly, without warning. Nora sat back from the keyboard, as if awoken from a trance.

Still unaware to her audience, Nora drew her knees up and put her hands over her ears. The tears fell freely down her face.

"I'll leave you two alone," Eden said, guiding the others away.

Wanda nodded, making eye contact with Eden.

As she entered the room, Nora's sniffling ceased abruptly. She looked up, embarrassed to have been caught crying.

"You're not okay, are you," Wanda said. Nora had started to talk more after she'd come out of the forest. Wanda had thought this was a healthy sign of her recovery… but now, she realized that it may have all been a farce -that Nora had just run away to keep her problems to herself.

Nora shook her head, scooting over so Wanda could join her at the bench. "I'm sorry that you caught me like this… Usually, I'll put on a time-stop when it gets this bad… Guess it slipped my mind.."

It took Nora a moment to realize what she'd just revealed.

"Huh? What- what're you talking about?!" Wanda exclaimed. "Does this happen often?!"

Nora waited, then she slowly nodded her head.

"Are you _crazy?!_ Why do you keep everything bottled up like that?!"

"It feels like I'm falling apart," Nora murmured, her voice becoming muffled as she put her head in her hands. "I think I _am_ going crazy, Wanda. And- and if I ever bring it up..." _The memories became too much._

The black-haired teen put a calming hand across her friend's back. "What happened to you, Nora? Please, just talk to me. I can help you."

Wanda wasn't actually sure _what_ she could do. But she knew that she would do _anything_ to help Nora.

"When- when I was in the Pentagon," Nora began, bracing her hands on her knees. "There were people… _bad_ people." She chose not to mention Erik; that was a conversation for another day. "Things were done to me… things-" Nora choked on the words.

"It'll be alright," Wanda consoled her. "You got out: they can't hurt you anymore."

"No! You don't get it! It's _still_ happening!" Nora jumped up from the stool, pacing away from Wanda.

Her friend stood up and followed her to the window, "What's still happening, Nora?"

 _"_ _The memories,"_ Nora's eyes widened as she spoke. "They- they figured out about that… how I can collect other people's memories. And… they used me for it..."

Wanda didn't say anything. She didn't know _what_ to say, so she just put her arms around Nora, sheltering her.

When the silence began to dwindle, she spoke.

"When you and Peter first started dating… I thought I would never stop hurting… for two months, I watched you -another girl I loved- be with _him..."_

Nora sniffed and clasped her hand in hers.

"It had happened before. But since you were a mutant - _like_ me in another way- that somehow made it even worse.

"When you disappeared," she continued. "Peter and I got into a _big_ fight… And for months after that, I searched for you."

"What does this-" Nora began.

Wanda interrupted her. She had been waiting months to say this -almost over a year. "-I thought… I thought that if I somehow found you… you would love me instead..."

"But I _do_ love you," Nora said, turning to face her.

Wanda smiled sadly, "No… Not in the way I did."

"Oh," Nora said, clenching her jaw. "I'm so sorry, Wanda."

"Don't be sorry," Wanda said, shrugging.

"No..." Nora hung her head. "I deserted you… for Peter. Even though I _did_ care for him that much, I had no right to exclude you like that.."

Wanda nodded, that's what she had needed to hear.

"You see," Wanda continued where she'd left off. "I kept my feelings bottled up for _so long,_ it almost consumed me… It effected everyone around me to the point that I lost almost all touch with them..."

Nora's shoulder's sagged. She thought she knew what Wanda was getting at now.

"I'll always be here for you, Nora," Wanda told her, putting both hands on her shoulders. "Where-ever you need me -as long as you're still in the same time."

Nora laughed quietly, "Thank you, Wanda."

Then, something Nora had _not_ been expecting: Wanda kissed her. Lightly. On the lips, her taste lingered for minutes afterwards.

As Nora watched Wanda drive away in the stolen rental car, Eden joined her on the front steps.

"You two work out your differences?" Eden asked.

"Yeah," Nora said, letting herself a small smile. "At least, I think we've started on it." She wasn't sure what the kiss had meant. Maybe, someday, she'd figure it out.

"Nice," Eden bobbed her head. Then she asked, "You feelin' okay?"

Nora shrugged her shoulders, "A little, I guess..."

Concerned, Eden stared at her, "Still going to run away?"

"I think I'll stay a little while longer," Nora said.

But Nora couldn't shake the feeling. Even if she had found something _resembling_ a home. _Even_ if her and Wanda had started to reconcile with each other… The memories still plagued her every waking and dreaming moment.


	41. Chapter 39Chapter 41

**A/N: Hello everyone! Glad to see that you liked the last chapter; in this one two characters reunite -something many of you have been anticipating, I'm sure :) And sadly, this is the second-last chapter! :( Thank you to everyone who's followed, favourited, reviewed, and read this story!**

anonymouscsifan: **Yes, it's been a long time coming for Nora and Wanda to reconcile :) And you're right about so many things XD Charles will be going in her head, and Peter is going to become apparent ;) And yes! Eden and Wanda ;) they're something I've been looking forward to :) You're also right about Nora saying 'did', she will have to work through all of that -and a realization in this chapter will help push that along. Thank you, as always, your insight is something I will never stop looking forward to :) 3**

gracedreamcloud: **Yeah… I've put Nora through a lot XD And I'm glad that you love Eden, I tried to make something different with her character -but at the same time, still follow some cliché with her mutant backstory (parents are religious and unaccepting and all that…) Thank you for your kind reviews :)**

MusicLovingPunkAnimeGirl: **What was unexpected? Please let me know :)**

K.J. Bollinger: **Thank you! :)**

.Princess: **Thank you so much! I'm glad you've been liking all the chapters. And that's so nice of you to say -I'm happy that you think it's different :)**

 **And finally: see if you can catch the Deadpool reference/line of dialogue near the end ;)**

Chapter 39/Chapter 41

 _March 29_ _th_ _, 1973._

"When defending yourself, there are a few main areas you'll want to keep in mind," Alex explained. "These include the eyes, the nose, -back of the head and knee and-"

"-The crotch?" Eden whispered to herself. Nora heard her by accident and snickered behind her hand.

Alex was instructing them in the basics of hand-to-hand combat. Some things he had learned in Vietnam, but most was self-taught.

"Keep your stance low, but light. If your opponent is bigger than you, you may have to evade them rather than attack." He walked around the pairs of students, adjusting their positions as he saw fit.

Nora sat on the sidelines, coaching Eden from a distance. There was no real reason for Nora to participate in this. After all, she was the one who'd learned it from the _original_ masters.

Eden was a laughable sight. She really had _no idea_ what she was doing, having grown up in a pacifistic, Catholic family.

Eden had explained to Nora -in depth- that her mutation was a telepathic link to any and all plants. Eden was able to control and move them at will.

This was pretty cool, except when Nora found that her bed had been accidentally over-run by daisies.

You know, just your average day in the Xavier Mansion.

Very few people seemed to be getting the hang of this, and Alex was growing frustrated.

After another ten minutes of the kids flailing around -more likely to damage themselves than their make-believe opponents- Alex called out for everyone to stop.

"Alright guys! Take five, I guess.." He leaned back into the gym's wall, taking a defeated swig from his water bottle.

"How's it going?" Nora asked, sidling up to him.

He looked at her, deadpanning, "How does it look like?"

She sighed exasperatedly, "You know, I could help with a demonstration. It might be easier than on your own. -I mean, if you want!" She added nervously.

He eyed her suspiciously, gaze falling on her gloved hands. He shrugged, "Sure, if you want."

As the students made their way back from the much-longer-than-five-minute break, Nora did some warm-up stretches.

She was wearing sneakers, long pants, a long-sleeve t-shirt and gloves. She wouldn't be in any danger. After all, any contact would be made away from the head.

Alex instructed the kids to watch closely. Then he and Nora faced off.

Eden looked to both of them, nervously clutching her hands in front of her.

Alex cracked his knuckles, while Nora instinctively pushed up her sleeves.

Alex made the first move, leaping forward as he swung a fist at her side.

Nora was purely on the defensive for this, so she simply batted it away and jumped in the other direction.

Alex swung his leg around and Nora jumped over it. He kicked, she dodged; he punched, she blocked.

She could tell he was holding back the full force of his destructive Vietnam training. She too, wasn't giving it her all; but those watching seemed to think so.

Their fight lasted for several minutes; the children watching were unable to look away for even a second of that time.

All was going well -better than that, actually- but then Nora missed a step.

She fell backwards, and though Alex would've ended the drill this way, he decided to let Nora keep her dignity.

Reaching out to grab her forearm, he caught Nora just as she was almost out of his reach.

He hauled her back up into position, his smile signaling the end of the drill.

The kids clapped and cheered, awestruck by the performance.

But then Eden _really_ noticed Nora's face. She stopped her clapping and stepped forward, her expression becoming concerned.

Alex saw how Eden was looking at them and turned to Nora.

She was staring directly at where his hand was touching her bare forearm. Seemingly frozen in place, eyes unblinking.

"Nora…? Are you alright?" Eden asked.

The rest of the kids quieted down as they saw how strangely the brunette was acting.

Nora slowly dislodged her arm from Alex's grip. Eyes blinking rapidly, she stepped away from him.

"Nora..?"

She looked up, as if seeing him for the first time. Her eyes were starting to glow.

"Oh!" Eden exclaimed, then spoke in a hushed tone. "Are you going to travel?"

Nora shook her head slowly. _No… No. It was much,_ much, _worse than that._

"I'm… I'm just gonna get some fresh air..." Nora mumbled. She left the gym in a hurry, almost crashing into the wall on her way out.

Eden and Alex made eye contact. Then Eden went after her.

Nora stumbled down the hallway, trying to use the walls as support. She kept tripping over her own feet, almost sending herself head-first into the ground multiple times.

She had to keep it away. She had to supress it _all._

Nora couldn't let the kids -or anyone- see her like this; they would think the worst of her.

She suddenly collapsed to the ground; breathing heavily. Eden rushed to her side, having followed her this far.

Eden was about to put a hand on her shoulder when she heard a familiar voice in her head.

 _NO!_ Charles cried out to her. _D_ _ON'T_ _touch her!_

Eden jumped away from Nora at the sudden intrusion.

 _Professor…_ She thought back. _There's something wrong with Nora…_

.

.

.

Ten seconds after Charles put the phone down, a very distressed Pietro Maximoff appeared in his office.

"What happened!?" He cried, "Is Nora okay? Is she hurt? -Did _she_ hurt someone? Will she be okay?!"

Charles wheeled around and Peter jumped at the sight of his paralysis.

Charles gave him a mental ten-second explanation of _his_ situation –by the end of which, Peter's eyes were wide open.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let me give you the bad news," Charles said.

He let Peter pace back and forth, as it was the only thing that seemed to calm him down.

After a solid minute of this, Peter stopped and faced Charles, wringing his hands nervously.

"Follow me," Charles said, going out the open door.

As they entered the elevator to the bottom floor, Charles questioned Peter on the full nature of Nora's abilities.

One confusing minute later, Peter put his hands up. "Look man, I'm not the expert on her whole 'time-travel' thing."

"Yet you arrived the second after I told you she was in trouble," Charles quipped.

Now they were in a circular, brightly-lit hallway. Peter followed Charles down one of the many adjacent corridors leading off the main vein.

"That has nothing to do with this..." Peter grumbled, clearly in denial. "Wanda- Wanda was out, and so I came instead."

Charles didn't bother pointing out that he could have just as easily found his sister and brought her along as well. -Although, that would have taken a _little_ more time.

"If you want to know everything about all her powers," Peter continued. "Why don't you just ask her yourself?"

"That's not going to be as easy as you think," Charles said. Pulling up to a closed door, he rapped his knuckles on it. It opened almost instantaneously.

Peter entered the room. At first, confused; then, worried.

Nora was lying in a hospital bed, white sheet pulled up to her chest. Her hair fanned out on the pillow, its dark pigment a stark contrast to the clean white. One arm stuck out; attached to it was an IV, which then led to a drip bag.

It looked like she was sleeping -except for the uneasy, hospital-esque circumstances.

Peter appeared next to the bed, shocking the likes out of Eden and Alex.

Hank -the final person present in the room- stared at Charles.

 _I thought you said you were going to call_ Wanda.

Charles shrugged, _He picked up._

 _Are you sure he can be trusted?_ Hank thought back.

 _If anything, he might be a little_ too _trusting,_ Charles replied. _After all, he_ did _break out Erik on a whim._

"What- what happened to her," Peter asked, eyes growing glassy.

A blond girl he didn't know stepped forwards. She had a kind, simple, yet strong air about her. Wanda would like that.

"We don't know," she said. "That's why we called _you."_

 _You mean that's why you called for_ Wanda, Peter thought directly at Charles, who winced.

Another blond -this one, a guy- stepped forward. "We were just sparring," he explained. "And at the end of the match… she didn't look right."

At that, something clicked. Peter looked up from Nora's body _-Nora. It's still Nora,_ he corrected himself. _She's_ not _dead._

"Sparring?" He asked. "You mean, like hand-to-hand combat?"

The guy shrugged, "Yeah, basically."

"Oh man," Peter sighed.

Charles squinted at him, "Do you know something, Peter?" It was sure starting to sound like he did.

Peter hung his head. "It might be something… Did you touch her while you two were 'sparring'?" He directed the question towards the male blond.

Alex stared at him, _Was he joking?_ "Well, yeah. Loads of times."

Peter grit his teeth and tried to ignore the potential promiscuity of the answer. "No… I mean: did you touch her bare skin, or something… Somewhere that wasn't covered by clothing?"

"Yeah," the guy nodded. "Probably; I guess so.. what does this have to do with anything, again?"

 _There we go._ That was the answer Peter had -or rather, hadn't- been looking for.

He gripped the metal bed frame, taking deep breaths in and out.

"I guess she didn't warn you, then?"

"Warn us of what, Peter?" Charles asked.

"She- when she, um, touches people… Nora basically gets all of their memories.."

Hank raised an eyebrow, "Well, that's a new one."

"So, is it normal for her to collapse like this?" Charles' questions just kept on coming.

"Um… Uh, no; not to my knowledge." Peter started to bit his fingernails in his nervousness. "She said that it hurts when it happens… but not -not like _this."_

Charles nodded thoughtfully.

She was perfectly stable -there seemed to be nothing wrong with her _externally._

But Nora wouldn't wake up.

For the rest of that afternoon, Peter sat by her side. Eden -she'd introduced herself a little while ago- brought them a simple lunch of sandwiches and orange juice, while Hank kept tabs on Nora's vitals.

Charles moved in and out of the room quite frequently -also still having classes to teach.

Peter was about to take Nora's hand, when he noticed the look Eden was giving him.

"Yeah?" He said to her, "What do you want?"

She quickly shook her head, looking away. Then, seemingly reconsidered, she said, "I may not know you very well -or her, for that matter- but from what I've heard, she doesn't want to be near you right now."

Peter groaned, "You sound _just_ like my sister."

 _Oh right. Wanda_ _'s_ _his sister. -_ _I think…_ _D_ _oes_ _he know how she_ _is_ _with girls?_ Eden hated herself for getting her hopes up, but she couldn't help it! She hadn't had a crush _this_ bad since sixth grade!

"So… Wanda's your sister?" She tried to ask casually. "We've only met once or twice… I was just wondering..."

"Uh-huh," Peter replied, totally oblivious. "We're twins, actually."

"Oh, wow. She, uh, she didn't mention that." _In the total of sixteen words we've spoken to one another!_

"She usually doesn't," Peter sighed. "We don't get along very well."

"Oh..." Eden let herself out a few minutes later, embarrassed beyond belief.

A little while later, Hank and Charles switched places.

It was painstakingly obvious to the telepath that Peter cared about Nora very much. The situation they were in was almost hilariously tragic.

Charles broke out of his reminiscing, clearing his throat to gather Peter's attention.

"I have an idea that may relieve Nora of her… _situation."_

Peter looked up from her still face. "What is it?" He asked, voice clogging in the back of his throat.

"This may not be a physical affliction," Charles explained. "But rather, a mental one."

"Okay," Peter said, urging him to continue. He was open to just about anything right now.

"If I go into her mind," Charles continued, moving towards Nora on the other side of the bed. "I can try and contact her from there."

Peter put his head in his hands. There was no clean or painless way to do this. But there probably wasn't anyone better than Charles for this kind of situation.

Peter knew he had no right to condone this. But he also knew that they had no idea what was going on inside of Nora's head. -And, maybe, she didn't either.

"Fine," Peter said, waving for Charles to go at it. "Just do… whatever you think will help her the most."

Charles nodded, putting a finger to his forehead. "Of course." He paused, "Is there anything you'd like me to tell her?"

Peter chuckled grimly, "No… There's nothing she wants to hear from me."

.

.

.

 _A Winkle in Time._ One of Nora's most treasured books. She had picked it up over a decade ago, and still found new things each time she read it.

She was currently thumbing through her old, dog-eared copy, feet propped up on a wooden table.

She was seated in a library; an old, musky, filled-to-the-brim-with-books library.

It was her kind of place.

It seemed to be mid-day by how the sunlight shone through the windows. Nora wasn't quite sure where she was, or how long she'd been here. All she knew was that this place felt right.

 _Right._ Something she hadn't been able to feel in a _long_ time.

 _What I would do for a pack of licorice,_ she thought.

When Nora looked up, she found that there was a clear plastic bag with some red sticks coming out of it.

Gas-station licorice. A little stale -just the way she liked it.

Nora happily bit into one of the twirly strands, smiling at the _crack_ it made when snapped in half.

She returned to her book. It took a few minutes, but then Nora found herself wondering: where _had_ that licorice come from?

Her power wasn't candy-conjuring. Her power was time-travel. (Amongst other, over-complicated shit.)

Already, the thought that something could be _wrong_ was fading. Already, Nora's mind had returned to her book.

And then, in another minute, she wasn't alone in the library.

The brown-haired man appeared in front of her soundlessly; as if a doorway had appeared and he'd simply walked through it.

It took Nora a second to notice him, and when she did she almost fell out of her chair.

She stared lamely at the man, letting the licorice stick hang loose from her mouth.

He smiled kindly, then said, "Hello, Nora."

Nora got up from the armchair, slowly taking a step back from him.

"Do- do I know you?"

His eyes widened, head tilting to one side. _She didn't recognize him._

Then, Nora found that she was shrinking. She fell, growing smaller and smaller until the man towered above her.

 _It's her,_ Charles thought. He recognized her in an instant. _The school-girl from Brooklyn… the one who disappeared._

The whole scene had a feeling of deja vu to him. It was like they'd been transported back in time.

"You don't… recognize me?" Charles asked hesitantly, making sure to keep a peaceful demeanor about himself.

She shook her head, brown eyes frightened and skittish.

"Well then, my name is Charles Xavier." He held out his hand. She took it after a moment, her tiny fingers dwarfed amongst his.

 _Charles Xavier,_ Nora thought. She knew that name… She just wasn't sure where from…

She slowly set _A Wrinkle In Time_ down on the table. As she did so, Nora felt a _whoosh_ of air flow through the library. She began to grow. Nora became taller -though not by much- until she returned to her more mature, teenage form.

"...Charles?" She asked, eyes squinted behind her thick-framed glasses. "Wha-? How are you here? _Where_ are we?"

 _The book,_ he realized. It was a trigger of sorts. It was something from her past, and when she touched it, she was returned to the form she'd held along with that book.

"I think..." Charles said. "That we are in your hippocampus."

Nora didn't say anything. She only looked to the ground, brows furrowed.

"I… I don't understand," she murmured. "That's- that's a part of my _brain._ Not a physical place like we're in _now."_

"Do you know exactly _where_ you are right now, Nora?" Charles asked. He sat down in an armchair positioned directly across from hers, and that's when she noticed his legs. He wasn't in his wheelchair. ...Charles… was _walking._

Nora sat down across from him. She was beginning to think that he might have the right idea. But she hoped- she _wanted_ him to be wrong.

"I mean… I'm in a library; the school has something like this… right?"

Charles shook his head. "No. Not as vast and as expansive as _this."_

"Wha-? What happened to me?!" Nora was starting to believe him now, and she was starting to have a panic attack. Her breath came out in short and stipulated bursts. "Am I- I d- d- dead? Are _you_ dead? What's going on!? How are we even having this conversation!?"

"Nora, calm down!" Charles held out a hand, hoping to help her settle down. Instead, she latched onto his extended limb, turning the use of the gesture into a lifeline.

Charles was going to move his chair next to her, but the sudden thought of that changed their situation entirely.

Suddenly, instead of her holding his hand across the table, they were sitting side-by-side on a small sofa.

Nora didn't notice this at first. When she did, it only increased her anxiety furthermore.

"What's happening to me!?" She sobbed into her knees, arms crossed over her head.

Charles awkwardly patted her back. He waited until the majority of her tears had been dealt with until he spoke.

"You're not _dead,_ Nora," he assured her. "And neither am I..." _I think._ "I _think…_ that we're just in your head."

She sniffed, "So, what? None of this is real?"

He shook his head, "Oh, what's happening to you is very, _very_ real. Your imagination has just construed it into something more… believable."

"So this 'library,'" Nora gestured around them. "...It's just an illusion."

Charles laughed quietly, "Yes, well, I'm sure your real hippocampus looks much more scientifically acurate than this."

Nora smiled at that. She got up, swaying a little before steadying herself. Charles offered his hand for support, but she shook her head.

"Do you remember what happened?" Charles asked her as they began to explore the library of her memories.

She stopped in front of a small collection of novels, almost hesitant to touch them. When she looked closer, Nora saw that they were all supposedly 'written' by an 'Alex Summers.'

"Alex..." She knew everything about him now. "We… we made contact. That was the- the first time since the… since the Pentagon..."

"What do you mean 'since the Pentagon'?" Charles asked.

She turned and faced him. "You haven't read my mind since I got here?"

He shook his head. "No. I don't do that to my friends without their consent -not unless there's an extreme case."

Nora motioned around to where they were. "Well, I give you my 'consent', and besides: this _must_ be extreme enough for you."

"I suppose you're right," Charles said, grimacing.

The sofa had now changed into an armchair and one of those therapy couches.

Nora lay down and Charles sat just a few feet away from her. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. She did the same.

And then they were somewhere else. Charles found himself in the middle of an old city street. The heavy rain plastered his hair to his forehead.

He saw the scene from two points of view. The first: a teen, usually uncontrollable brown curls pulled back, sitting in a horse-drawn carriage.

The other: a much younger child -no more than five- running through the streets, trying to escape her older sister in an impromptu game of tag.

Charles jumped back as he saw how the older sister was struck down as she run into the path of the horse.

The teen -who he now recognized as _Nora-_ burst out of the carriage. She stumbled towards the fallen child until she was pulled away by someone else.

Charles saw the similarities between the three women. Child. Adult. Crone. Three generations of the same person.

He saw and he understood. Charles moved onto the next scene.

A modern-(ish)day hospital. A confused, grieving child with an incredible power she didn't know how to control.

Glass. Blood. Memories. -The first time Nora had killed.

Charles watched his younger self confront Nora as a child. He foolishly tried to speak telepathically with the girl. She was scared off, obviously.

` She ran. That's all she knew what to do.

 _Years_ of running. Identities changed, homes abandoned.

Charles didn't quite know what she was running from. And -he thought: neither did she.

He felt a lapse in her thought flow as Charles came across a certain point in her life. She was hesitant to show him this at first, but she eventually gave in.

Soft, blond hair. Mischievous, green eyes.

Tom. She would always blame herself for his death.

But Charles knew she hadn't meant to. -She hadn't meant for any of it to happen.

And then came Wanda. Peter. And with them trouble, and drama.

Relationships were never Charles' strong suit. He was a geneticist, _not_ a psychologist.

But he _was_ a telepath. And that gave him a bit of a head start on everything.

The story ended -or so everyone had thought- with Nora heartbroken, Peter in anguish, and Wanda estranged.

Even in this mental state, Charles was jarred after he witnessed firsthand what had happened in the Pentagon.

She was not even of legal age! Yet they… they treated her like a lab rat; passed from one hand to another like an expensive cigar.

Imprisonment, isolation, electroshock to the brain… Near _RAPE._

And then the mental torture of having a hundred sets of consciousnesses pushed alongside hers.

Charles now understood why the library that was her hippocampus was so close to bursting.

She was _this_ close to losing her mind -if she hadn't already.

The reconciliation with Wanda had helped.

But all of that progress had been stamped to the dirt when Nora had made contact with Alex.

He may have been the last straw…

Simultaneously, Charles and Nora opened their eyes.

Charles leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Nora sat up slowly and turned her head towards the man.

"I don't want your pity," she said, idly pulling a strand of hair through her thumb and forefinger. "Only your help."

Charles looked up from his cupped hands; his eyes were ringer with a natural, saddening red. _He's on the verge of tears,_ Nora realized.

"Well, I offer you both," Charles said. "Nora. I am so, _so_ sorry… What you've experienced… it would break any regular man."

She cocked her head, cringing at the useless words of pity. "Well I'm not either of those things." Nora hung her head to see how the fingers on her left hand seemed to tap -of their own accord- across her left knee. "But what we both know… we _both know:_ I _am_ broken."

"Yes." Charles scooted his chair forwards. And then they were back in the twin armchairs. Her mind seemed to mold itself to whatever their situation required."Whatcan I do? _Please_ tell me so I… so I can help you."

Nora looked up and said -voice completely calm and quiet- "I want you to erase _all_ of those memories."

Charles took a minute to mull it over. Erasing memories was a simple thing -especially for a telepath of his prowess. But he used to doing smaller things -chance sitings, per say, of one of his students' mutations caught in action.

But this… _this_ was big. This meant _thousands_ of separate moments; all from _one_ specific mind.

For the second time in two months: Charles Xavier seriously doubted if he would be able to use his powers for something as big as this.

Nora stood patiently by one of the windows. She noticed that there was nothing to be seen outside of the library. Only a blinding, golden glow.

"I'll do it."

She whirled around. Nora'd almost completely forgotten about Charles' presence.

"Okay." Everything was on him now. Though Nora didn't voice these thoughts; he had enough pressure on his as it was.

They said nothing else. Nora simply lied down in the therapist's couch that had reappeared. She closed her eyes.

Charles did the same, almost immediately catching a stray thought from her.

 _Start at the beginning,_ she told him.

And so he did; beginning with a young man named Timothy Walker.

.

.

.

Five minutes. That's how long it took. -From Peter's perspective, that is.

For five, short minutes, Charles was slumped back in his wheelchair, eyes closed. And for those same five minutes, Nora lay, unmoving, in the hospital bed.

Peter watched the clock tick, each second passing slower than the one before it.

Five minutes. Usually a short span of time: but in a situation like this it became unbearable for the speedster.

Peter was just feeling the beginnings of regret seep into his stomach, when Nora lurched awake.

Peter was sitting so close that her sudden change to a sitting position almost knocked him back.

Nora was breathing heavily. She pawed a hand across her body, as if to make sure this was all real.

Charles woke in a much calmer fashion, eyelids fluttering open. He groaned, immediately recoiling against the effects of a headache that would badger him for the rest of the day.

Peter stood up, instinctively leaning over in Nora's direction. But the moment he put a hand on her shoulder, she shied away from him.

Her hair fell around her face, masking her relieved expression from him.

Nora suddenly jumped from the bed, throwing the blankets to the ground. She ran from the room before anything could be said, bare feet padding across the cool floor.

Peter turned to Charles, enraged. "What. _Happened."_

The man gradually looked up at him, his lips pursed into a thin line.

"I did it."

.

.

.

She was empty. She was new. Nora had a clean slate -a clear mind.

It frightened and excited her at the same time.

She knew exactly who she was.

 _Nora. I. Am. NORA._

She still knew all of the languages, the fighting skills, and the professional baseball pitches.

But there was a certain emptiness surrounding those skills. Nora didn't know where she'd gotten them from.

And that was the greatest feeling in the world.

She just needed a little time to process it all.

So, of course: _he_ was here.

Why Charles had brought _Peter_ of all people confounded Nora beyond belief.

Right now, Peter became the last thing on her mind.

Right now, Nora was enjoying her _freedom._

.

Peter found Nora sitting by the edge of the pond.

He crept forwards, careful to keep his pacing slow. Charles had warned him not to rush things, as she could still be unstable.

Obviously hearing his heavy (though supposed-to-be-silent) footsteps -she'd been trained by samurai, for God's sake!- Nora whipped her head around.

Caught in the act, Peter abandoned his 'sneaky stance' and stood up straight. He gave her a little awkward wave.

"Um… hey."

She turned back around, returning her gaze to the water.

Peter only _just_ caught her voice as she said, "What do _you_ want?"

He closed the rest of the distance in a matter of seconds -though without using his speed- seating himself a few feet away from her.

"I… I want to explain, Nora," he said quietly.

She rolled her head to rest on her right shoulder, staring him down.

"Explain what, Peter? How you betrayed me? Broke my heart? Well let me explain _this_ to you. I spent six _months_ locked up in there. _Six._ Months. For almost _three_ of which, I was experimented on..."

Peter had begun to slowly move closer to her -something Nora was well aware of.

She let him come.

"You know what the best thing about round-the-clock torture is, Peter?"

Peter couldn't see how there was a 'best thing' about any of this.

"-It's the fact that you just can't step it up from there..."

Noting Peter's silence at this, Nora giggled. "Except… you _can."_

Peter turned his head to look at her, silently asking the question.

"Remember the time when we were about to have sex?" She asked casually. "And then I had one of my flashbacks, and kicked you away?"

He nodded, a terrible feeling rising in his throat.

"I never _did_ tell you what I saw that day, did I, Peter?"

"Nora..." He began, but was swiftly cut off.

"-I was attacked, Peter!" She whispered forcefully. "And the man -the… the _monster_ who attacked me almost _raped_ me! And- and the people who 'saved' me, Peter? Well, I'm- I'm pretty sure they were watching the whole thing!"

Peter put one hand over his mouth, the other wrapped across his stomach. He wasn't sure _what_ he was feeling right now. He only knew that it wasn't good.

"And you know what happened after _that?!"_ Nora pointed back at the mansion, where she may have spent the rest of her life in a coma -if it wasn't for Charles' help. She pulled her knees up, locking her arms around the back of her head.

"Complete memory overload, Peter, -In other words: in a four-week period, I had over one hundred peoples' memories shoved into my. Fucking. Brain." Her eyes went wide at the mere thought of it. "Thank whoever's up in the skythat someone cared enough about me to help. Otherwise… I may have just never woken up." She said the last bit in a creepy sing-song voice.

For the longest of times, Peter was silent.

Then he said, "But I _do_ care about you, Nora."

She scoffed, "You know? Once upon a time, I would have actually _believed_ that. Now? It's just another lie..."

"Why did you go to Paris?" Peter asked her, like he was trying to changing the subject.

"What?"

"You went on the plane, seemingly out of nowhere. ...Why?"

"Oh… _That."_ Nora twirled her wrist around. "I really just did it on a whim. But… as it turns out: a 'future version' of myself showed up while I was on that plane!"

Peter's eyes widened. This was the perfect time to move into _his_ explanation.

"Did she say anything about me?" He questioned.

Nora stared up at him, crinkling up her nose. _"No._ Why would she have mentioned _you?"_

"Because she was the one who told me to turn you in."

Nora stopped everything she was doing; her jaw dropped.

 _What on Earth?_ No. _NO._ He _had_ to be lying. She could not believe this. What Peter was suggesting… That her future self had orchestrated her arrest? That meant… That could only mean that she had done the same with everything else… It wasn't possible.

"Nora? ...Nora!" Peter broke Nora from her reverie by shaking her shoulder.

She stared down at his hand on her, waiting for it.

But there was nothing. None of the memories Charles had gotten rid of seemed to be resurfacing… This eased her anxiety -if only a little.

"Did you hear what I said?" Peter asked, worried by the blank expression on her face.

She nodded numbly.

All this time… It had been _her._ Not Peter.

Her heart filled with regret. Nora looked to Peter. She saw how nervous he was, how his hands fidgeted at an impossible rate.

She'd been directing her anger at the wrong person this _whole_ time.

"I um… I'm gonna go for a walk..." Nora said to Peter. "Alone, if you don't mind."

She stood up. He did the same, letting her use him as support.

They made eye contact, both giving each other a little nod.

"You, uh, take as long as you need," Peter assured her.

She laughed sternly, eyebrows moving upwards for less than a moment.

Nora would be sure to do just that.

.

.

.

 **Thoughts?**


	42. Chapter 40Chapter 42

**A/N: Soooo yeah; this is the end. The final chapter. It feels so weird; hopefully ya'll like it :) I'll do a proper final note at the end; otherwise, just read :)**

Riniuchiha: **You binge-read MY story? *squeals* That makes me so happy! Gaaah! So many nice words! I** _ **did**_ **try to make this story as 'on-its-own' as possible, so it's good that you liked it that way. Too bad you only caught it at the end… Nora loves you too, and maybe you'll even see more of her someday… ;)**

gracedreamcloud: **It's sad for me as well… And kind of strange to have something like this end -for now! ;) Thank you for saying that my story deserves more recognition -that in itself means a lot. I hope you enjoy this ending :) Happy reading!**

K.J. Bollinger: **Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

Adrillian1497: **Nope! Not gonna run away right now XD And to be more specific: Charles removed all of the** _ **memories**_ **Nora gathered. But not the skills, habits, languages, etc. For example: she knows how to speak Spanish -but does not remember how or who she learned it from. (Hopefully that helps!) *laughs evilly* Yes it does make sense, those feels you're feeling :) Thank you for reading :D**

anonymouscsifan: **Thanks for telling me about the mistake! (I went back and fixed it :) And yeah, it kind of came off as a whim, coming up with her memories basically being one, giant, over-stuffed library. Yes, you are correct in saying that only the** _ **other people's**_ **memories are gone. And as for the painful ones, she knows something was there before -something bad- but doesn't ever recall experiencing it. That's so great you got the not-so-subtle reference XD And I totally agree: James McAvoy = awesomeness. And thank you for reviewing all these months, your insight became something I looked forward to every. Single. Week. So go on, read the last chapter :) 3**

AkariWolfPrincess: **Yees, the memories could come back to haunt her… But not in this story ;) Thank you for reading this story! :)**

Chapter 40/Chapter 42

 _April 30th, 1973. Xavier Mansion._

The entire Xavier Institute was silent. The students lay to rest in their beds. All were supposed to be slumbering, but yet, there were a trail of lights flickering on and off.

Nora was looking for food -or maybe just some water. In the daylight, it was ten times easier to find; but that was not the case in the middle of the night.

So far, she had succeeded in waking no one, but when she finally stepped into the kitchen, Nora discovered that she wasn't actually the only one awake.

Alex grunted to her in greeting, only looking up from his cereal for a moment before his head slumped back down.

Nora got a glass, filling it with ice from the freezer. She didn't bother re-filling the ice trays; an act that would surely cause Freddie some disgruntlement in the morning. (He liked his water ice cold.)

She then turned on the tap and watched as the room-temperature water cascaded in between the ice cubes. They seemed to crumple in on themselves ever-so-slightly as the water hit them. Nora blinked tiredly, only just turning off the water flow in time.

Nora didn't turn around as she drank, gulping the quickly-chilled water back in one breath.

Placing the empty glass in the sink, she turned around. Nora saw how Alex was sitting at the island in the middle of the kitchen. She noted how he had put his hands over his ears, as if trying to block out anything else.

"You alright?" She asked, knowing full well that he was not.

Alex took his time in answering her. First, he stretched his arms behind him, letting out a yawn. Then he blinked rapidly, smacking his lips together.

"Peachy," he deadpanned.

On an instinct, one of Nora's eyebrows raised high above the other. "Really..."

Alex rolled his eyes back into his head, grimacing. "Of _course not._ I feel like shit. I can't sleep. I don't feel like talking to anyone -ever. Again. And I… I'm… _anxious."_ He sighed, nervously drumming his fingers on the island's surface. "When it comes to doing _anything:_ I can't help but feel overwhelmed."

Nora got the feeling that he'd been holding this in for quite a while. _When did he get back, again?_

"How long ago did you get back?" Nora asked. She sat down across from him. Preparing herself for the conversation to come.

"About three months ago." Alex skittishly ran a hand through his hair. It was a nervous tick Nora had picked up on.

"And- and- and the bed's too soft, and everything is so… so-"

"-So quiet?" Nora suggested.

His nostrils flared as he let out a loud breath. He blinked, "H- how?"

"I had all of your memories, remember?" Nora leaned forward and put her chin in the palm of her hand.

"Oh." He seemed quite embarrassed now. _All_ of his memories? That meant quite a few things Alex wanted _no one_ to know about.

Noticing how he was uncomfortable he was, Nora reassured him: "But I don't have them anymore! Charles took care of that. All I get now is… _impressions_ when I talk to people sometimes."

Alex nodded. He was relieved that she didn't know about any of the things he had done in Vietnam. -Or what had been done to him. Only Charles knew about that because of their therapy sessions.

And Alex had to admit: talking with Charles wasn't doing him much good. He appreciated the help; but the talking wasn't doing much. As often as Charles could go into his head, he just didn't _understand_ what Alex was feeling; what Alex had _gone through._

"Alex?"

At first, Nora's voice sounded distant and unclear. Alex concentrated, and then was able to make out what she was saying.

"-you okay, Alex?" Nora broke him out of his thoughts, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Wha-?"

"You just… _zoned out_ there. What were you thinking about?"

Alex wanted to laugh. _What_ am _I thinking about?_ That was something Charles _never_ had to ask him.

He sighed, "My… my parents, I guess. I haven't spoken to them since I got back..."

"Not even a phone call?" Nora exclaimed. "But they- they must think you're dead!"

"I know, okay!" Alex slammed the palm of his hand down on the island. Nora jumped. "I just-! You- you wouldn't _understand._ If I went back to them, they'd want to know what happened over there -and then they would start to ask questions and -and…" He took a breath. "I can't say it. I can't _face_ it… What happened… it was too horrible."

Nora let the silence linger until she was absolutely sure he was finished.

Then she said, "I know you _think_ that no one will ever understand what you're going through right now -trust me: I _do."_ Nora made a 'stop' motion when she noticed Alex's reservedness towards her statement. "But what you really need to do is talk-"

"-Yeah, yeah: I'm already seeing Charles," Alex huffed.

"No." Nora re-interrupted him. _"Not_ Charles. He won't _ever_ be able to understand what you went through -no amount of telepathy can do that."

"And _you_ can?" Alex asked sarcastically.

Nora leaned forward across the island. She was growing frustrated with his unwillingness to cooperate.

"Uh, yeah: I can. Remember when I fainted after getting all of your memories a few weeks back? -Yeah; that still happened."

"I thought Charles erased all of that?" Alex said, leaning back as Nora stared at him from her new, crouched vantage point on the other side. She was starting to scare him a little.

"He did. But I still know the feelings of sheer terror, the agonizing frustration, the stagnant isolation; the _crippling_ terror that _every_ war vet faces." She sat back in her chair. "I've met my fair share of veterans over the years; so yeah: I get what you're feeling right now!"

After that, Alex bit his bottom lip. So hard, in fact, that he was surprised no skin was broken.

He didn't say anything for so long that Nora thought he might've zoned out again.

"So what the hell do you think I should do?"

Nora crossed her arms in front of her. "I think you should call your parents," she suggested quietly.

Alex looked down. He wasn't sure if he would be able to do that.

"They're your _parents,_ Alex. You're lucky enough to still have the original set -they're going to want to hear from you no matter what."

Alex wasn't so sure about that. He remembered his mother crying the day he was first sent off to juvie. His father had been stern and stoic, as always.

After the events in Cuba, he had reached out and met with them. The meeting had gone well, and they had established some sort of recuperating relationship.

But it wasn't long before he was swept off once again to fight in someone _else's_ war.

And his brother. _Scott._ Alex had been sent a picture of him on his fifth birthday. Dark hair -like Dad- and their Mum's eyes.

"Your family doesn't necessarily have to be your blood relatives, too," Nora said. "You _know_ that there will always be people here for you. But you already knew that… You also care what your parents think of you -all children do, no matter how hard they try and deny it- and that's why you're beating yourself up so much about this."

"And you think talking to them will solve all of my problems?"

Nora laughed, "Well, _all_ of them would be a miracle. But communication helps… even if it only starts things up."

.

.

.

 _May 17th, 1973. Silver Spring, Maryland._

Wanda sensed someone. She wasn't entirely sure who it was, but they felt familiar to her.

At the end of the school day, Wanda ran for the buses like everyone else. She caught a flash of Peter's conscience, only holding on to it for a moment before he was out of her range.

She was in the line-up to her bus, casually picking at a loose thread on her jacket when Wanda noticed the car.

It looked older -like one of the vehicles a close-to-retirement faculty member might drive. But the person in the driver's seat was anything but old.

Wanda could spot her golden hair from a mile away.

 _Eden,_ she thought, as a not-entirely uncomfortable fluttering sensation became apparent in her stomach.

 _What's she doing here? Has something else happened?_

Wanda cut off that train of thought as she pushed her way to the visitor's parking lot. It had been horrible enough to hear of Nora's incident _after_ it had happened -even if everything had turned out alright.

As Wanda got closer to the beige sedan, Eden got out of the car. She leaned against the hood, despite the hot afternoon sun.

"What happened?" Wanda asked immediately. "Why are you here? Is Nora hurt again?"

 _These twins really_ do _care about her,_ Eden thought. She tapped her fingers atop the car's hot metal surface, letting Wanda finish her tirade.

After a minute of questioning, -and realizing that Eden had answered none of it- Wanda took a deep breath; her face was flushed.

"Nothing happened," Eden told her. "I just thought I'd pick you up from school. I brought Nora into town -she wanted to see you."

Although she could have gone to Xavier's over the weekend just as easily, Wanda was happy that Nora had decided to venture back into the real world for some time.

"We'll have to pick up Brygit," Wanda said. Her Mum had told her to take a different bus in order to arrive at the elementary school in time.

"Brygit?" Eden hadn't been told of anyone by that name.

"My younger sister. Her school's like five minutes away."

Eden nodded, "Okay."

They both got into the car, Wanda slinging her bag into the back seat. Eden reversed out of the parking stall, then she took a left onto the main street. Wanda guided her from there.

.

"Nora!" Brygit squealed in delight at the sight of the brunette.

Nora was apprehensive at first, but she relaxed as the small girl jumped at her. They hugged gently, Nora careful not to let their cheeks touch.

 _Not so small anymore,_ Nora thought to herself as Brygit stepped back. The seven-(nearing eight) year-old had grown at least an inch since February.

"I'm _sooo_ glad you're back! Do you want to see my room? I have it _all_ to myself now since Wanda moved upstairs -we even painted the walls again! And my tiara! I still have it -of course I still have it! Why would I throw away the best. Birthday present. Ever!"

Nora smiled as Brygit babbled on, making eye contact with Wanda over top of her head. She had certainly grasped ahold of _Peter's_ talkative habits.

As Magda welcomed them into the living room, Brygit didn't cease talking -she only quieted. While Wanda and Nora sat beside each other, Eden found herself next to the smaller brunette. Within seconds, Brygit's attention had completely diverted to her; commenting on everything from her blonde hair, ("You look _just_ like Sleeping Beauty!") to her role at the Institute ("Do _you_ have powers too!?")

Eden was completely bewildered at the amount of energy the tiny human possessed. She was the youngest of four in her family; this much attention wasn't something she experienced often -even amongst the youngsters back at the mansion.

Wanda smirked at Eden's bemused expression towards Brygit's antics. She couldn't deny that the look of her nose all scrunched up when she was confused was cute. She _was_ kinda cute, Wanda surmised. Christian blood and all.

Wanda returned her attention to Nora, noticing how oddly clothed she was.

Although summer was drawing ever closer, Nora was wearing long pants and a shirt with full sleeves. She even had on a pair of thin gloves -both produced an itch that bothered Nora very much.

"So… you still get people's memories?" Wanda asked, pointing at Nora's covered hands.

Nora shrugged, "Yeah… But not from the people I already had some from."

Wanda recalled that Nora hadn't gotten anything from Brygit or Magda.

"Better safe than sorry," Nora said. Wanda agreed thoroughly with her.

"So what do you do at the school, Eden?" Magda asked as she set down the tray of cups and lemonade. "Do you teach there?"

"What? Oh, no, no, _no."_ Eden shook her head. "I'm just a student. I'm the same age as Nora and Wanda, actually."

"Oh? Forgive me: you look very mature for your age."

"Moooom," Wanda groaned. "You're embarrassing her!" Indeed, Eden had begun to blush.

"I guess I'll start on dinner," Magda sighed. "Why don't you all go outside? It's a beautiful day."

In the backyard, Eden entertained Brygit by making flowers appear out of nowhere. The young girl cheered happily, clapping her hands each time a new daisy, rose, or tulip appeared.

"They seem to be getting along," Wanda commented. She stared apprehensively in Eden's direction from their spot on the back porch.

"Oh come on, Wanda." Nora swatted playfully at her friend's shoulder. "She's not that bad, I swear!"

"She seems like a total teacher's pet."

"Weeeell… yes. She can be, but that's not all there is to her!"

"Sounds like you're trying to set me up on a date." Wanda's humorous facade vanished momentarily, "You seem… different," Wanda said. She shook her head. "I _told_ you to talk to me if anything felt wrong."

"You think I'm still hiding something from you!?" Nora exclaimed.

"I don't know!" Wanda put a hand to her forehead. "I'm just getting weird vibes from you, that's all."

"I _have_ changed, Wanda." Nora turned her knees so they were facing each other more directly. "Now that I don't have all-" she twirled one finger next to her ear, _"this…_ I'm going to be different."

Wanda nodded gradually after she ran a flustered hand through her dark hair.

"Listen, okay? I'm sorry for not telling you everything about me," Nora said. "All the time-travel-y-shit, and the losing-my-mind… and..."

"-How you killed someone," Wanda finished.

Nora took a deep breath, "...Yeah… That too."

"You know; it's not even that I'm mad about," Wanda said.

"What?"

Wanda's gaze drifted over to where Eden had woven an elaborate flower crown for Brygit. It went along nicely with the tiara Nora had made.

"It's just… when you and Peter were together -and I mean _really_ together- you, like, didn't even acknowledge me. You were gone, Nora; just like all the rest of the girls."

Nora hung her head, then asked softly, "Do you ever think about them? The others, I mean."

"Of course!" Wanda scoffed. "I think about everyone I love." She looked to Nora, her gaze only flitting briefly from Eden before landing on Brygit. In the back of her mind, Wanda felt her Mother's steady stream of caring and nervous emotions.

"You _know_ that I'm sorry," Nora said. "I was such… such a dick! I don't expect you to forgive me right now. I guess I just want you to know how I feel."

"Okay." The answer came suddenly, as if Wanda had already known what she was going to say.

Nora looked to her, "Yeah?"

"You're right. I can't do that right away. But I guess… I understand where you are right now."

"Thank you," Nora said to her.

Wanda laughed suddenly, "Jesus, we're a mess!"

Nora joined in with her, their combined laughter drawing stares from Brygit and Eden.

"What do you think they're laughing about?" Eden asked the kid.

Brygit looked up at her, one hand holding the two tiaras to her head. "I dunno. Those two are just weird!"

Eden chuckled, nodding in accordance.

"But you," Brygit started, a child-like grin spreading across her face. "I like you."

.

.

.

 _June 1st, 1973. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters._

"Are you sure you want to stay, Nora? We have room for one more!"

Nora shook her head, "I'll be fine, Hank. -And besides, _someone_ has to stay behind and make sure no one breaks in!"

She sat on the front steps, waving to the bus until it had driven out of sight. Once they were gone, she stood up, yawning while she stretched her arms out in front of her.

For the rest of today, she had the place to herself! Charles and Hank had taken everyone else on a field trip to some museum down state; Alex was off on his own business, and Wanda and Eden were studying for their finals.

Funnily enough, they had been taking many of the same courses -and Eden was happy to have a studying partner that wasn't so infuriatingly _smarter_ than her!

But in truth, Nora was glad to have some peace and quiet. And although the mansion was a little daunting with only one person inside, it came with a lot of benefits.

-For once, Nora didn't have to fight people off for the ever-coveted recliner chair.

In fact, that's where she was right now, currently waiting for the popcorn to be finished.

Nora put on a VCR, grabbed her snacks and had _just_ sat down when the phone rang.

That was odd; the phone never rang. Nora wasn't even sure if the place was properly listed! (And how would someone even know to call here?)

Nora hesitantly picked up the receiver stationed in the kitchen and put it to her ear.

"Um… hello?"

The caller on the other end took so long to reply that Nora thought they'd hung up.

But after ten seconds, a reply got through, "Hi?"

Nora assumed this was a telemarketer -or maybe a prank call. But she didn't hang up. Instead, she asked, "Who is this?"

"Uh, my name's Jo Allen. I, uh- it says on the card here that this number's for some 'school for gifted youngsters'? Do I have the right place?"

Nora straightened up in the kitchen bar stool. "Yeah, you do… How did you get this number?"

The girl's voice had been quiet this whole time, but now she seemed to have grown a little more relaxed.

"Some guy in a wheelchair came to my house a few months ago. My parents sent him away… But a day later I got- I guess it's his business card? I got it in the mail. The letter said to call if I ever needed help."

"Oh." Nora's eyes widened.

"So..? Can you help me?" The girl's voice seemed more frightened now.

"Yeah- I mean: I can try. What happened, exactly?" Nora asked.

The girl stammered out her story in less than a minute. "Well, you see: I didn't _mean_ to steal the truck. When I ask people for things, they- they just give them to me!"

Nora raised an eyebrow.

"So I was driving away the guy's truck, and then I guess he came to his senses? So then there were the police, and I got pulled over -obviously- and now I'm in the station, and I _can't_ call my parents. You see, they'll kill me! And so… yeah. The guy wants to charge, and I don't know what to do and-"

"-I'm gonna stop you right there," Nora interrupted. "You said you're in the police station?"

"Uh huh, and this was my one phone call, so-"

"Alright hun," Nora didn't know why she had said 'hun'. It just came out. "From now on, you don't say _anything_ to the police, you hear me?"

"O- O- Okay?"

"You stay exactly where you are. Even if your parents come and talk to you do _not_ tell them about your powers."

"Uh, okay -wait, what? Powers? What powers? What are you talking about?" Jo exclaimed.

"You said that when you ask for things, people just give them to you?" Nora questioned.

"Yeah..."

"Alright, and if the 'guy in the wheelchair' came to you, that is what I would call a power -some might even say a mutation."

Nora was trying to calm her down; it wasn't working so far.

"I think I heard that guy say something about mutants," Jo mused. "-But -So… you're saying I'm one of those?"

Nora sighed and put a hand to her forehead. "You need to just stay _-where_ are you by the way?"

"I- I live in Augusta, Maine," Jo stammered out. "I'm, uh, I'm in the central police division-"

"Alright, _stay there,"_ Nora repeated. "And _do not_ talk to anyone, _okay?"_ Nora had begun to pace the length of the kitchen, cordless telephone still in hand. When Jo didn't answer right away, she asked, "Can you do that for me, Jo?"

"Yeah… I can," her voice finally came through. "But I think my time's almost up. Some guy's telling me to get off the phone."

 _Shit._ Oh well. "That's alright," Nora assured her. "You just stay there. I'll send someone over as soon as I can."

"As soon as you can!?" Jo exclaimed. "How long is that gonna take?"

Nora was about to answer her -but then the line was cut off.

"Jo? Jo!" She called, already assuming that the girl's phone call had been ended unwillingly.

The poor girl. She was all alone; had no idea of the powers she could possess, and to top it off: was in the custody of a bunch of humans!

-Not to mention: the way she talked about her parents made Nora worried. They didn't sound very pro-mutant.

Nora only hoped that Jo wouldn't completely lose her mind.

Her 'peaceful' afternoon ruined, Nora spent the rest of it nervously pacing around the mansion.

"Oh why, why, _why_ did they all have to be gone today?" Nora wasn't sure what to do. Even if she _did_ pause time, she was the last person qualified to go and find this girl.

For something as important as this, Charles' telepathic abilities were definitely needed.

After exactly one hour, forty-seven minutes, and eighteen seconds, Nora's wait was ended.

The van pulled up around the cul-de-sac in front of the mansion. Its double doors were thrown open, the students jumping out onto the gravel driveway.

It had been a relatively successful trip, Hank thought. There had only been a brief five minutes when they'd thought Jeremy had wandered off, when in fact, he had actually been in the bathroom.

However, Hank's cheerful expression vanished the moment he saw Nora.

She stood in the same spot she'd been when seeing them off, except this time her expression was one of fear.

Hank saw that Charles had noticed this as well. Charles looked in Nora's direction, mentally asking her permission to see what was just so wrong.

She nodded; it would be quicker that way.

It took about five seconds, and Charles had seen it all.

His eyes widened.

"Hank, get a plane."

.

.

Nora didn't sleep that night. She put the younger children to bed, while Alex explained the situation to the older ones.

After everyone had been looked after, there was nothing they could do but wait.

All of Nora's stress towards the matter caused her to travel that night. From 11:35 PM to 1:08 AM, Alex waited outside her room for Nora to return from Australia's treacherous jungles.

And even after that (smaller) affair, there was still no word from Charles or Hank.

Alex eventually fell asleep. Nora kept a methodical count of his snores, as they could be heard from two rooms away.

Nora's attention slipped around four AM, and she slept for about half an hour. After the near-pointless cat nap, she awoke with a jolt. Frantically checking the phone for any recorded messages from them, she was left disappointed at finding nothing.

Later that morning, everyone else -who'd had a good night's sleep- went downstairs to find Nora cooking them breakfast.

She moved in a whirlwind, making everything from scrambled eggs to french toast.

Alex noticed the beginnings of the dark bags settling underneath her eyes. Slowly, carefully, he guided her out of the kitchen to her and Eden's shared room.

"Nora, you need to relax," he tried to tell her.

"Relax? I'm relaxed! Why would you say that? Of course I'm relaxed; why would I not be relaxed? Do I not look relaxed to you?!"

Alex sighed and gave her a gentle push. She fell easily into a seated position on her bed. He knelt down in front of her.

"Just… get some rest, okay Nora? I know you don't mean to: but you're scaring the other kids."

Even as the sun had made the beginnings of its journey earlier that morning, Nora's eyes had begun to fall more and more closed. And as Alex spoke to her, the sleepiness got harder and harder to fight off.

So Nora lay down, and he left her to sleep.

.

.

She slept until three in the afternoon. Waking up with rosy cheeks and a worse bed head than usual, Nora gradually made her way downstairs.

Hearing voices -happy voices that weren't in her head- Nora sped down the stairs.

When she got to the bottom, everyone turned and looked at her.

She pushed past their stares, moving towards the one person she didn't recognize.

She was of average height and had a nice, round figure. A jittery hand pushed back a lock of dirty blonde hair while a nervous smile made its way across Jo Allen's face.

Charles gestured towards the brunette, "Jo, this is Nora." He quirked an optimistic smile. "I believe you two have already spoken."

Nora had never felt so relieved.

.

.

 _June 4th, 1973._

"Professor?" Nora cracked open the door, peering inside.

Charles looked up from his paper-strewn desk and smiled. "Yes Nora, come on in."

"Are you busy right now? I could come another time?"

"No, no! Of course not." He motioned for her to sit. "Please."

Before Nora spoke of her true nature for visiting, Charles off-handedly remarked, "Well I'd certainly say you've stayed more than your one week."

"What do you mean?" She asked, having completely forgotten about their conversation just three and a half months ago.

"When you first came here, you had reservations about staying very long," Charles reminded her. "I convinced you to stay at least a week… And, well, you've certainly exceeded beyond that!"

Nora laughed, almost uncomfortably, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

He noticed this and frowned. "Is everything alright?"

She looked up, then shrugged casually. "I… yeah, I guess so."

Charles raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I was just wondering if… if maybe I could stay here for a while longer..? I- I don't have any money, but I could work -maybe take up that teaching job you offered a little while ago..?"

Charles stared at her for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. "And here I thought you were going to leave us!" He beamed.

"Oh!" Nora joined in on his laughter, then becoming quite reserved once more. "So… is that a yes?"

"Of course, Nora!" Charles exclaimed. "You're welcome here as long as you want! -And I'm sure the kids would love to have you as one of their favourite teachers."

Nora turned red at his praise, but was smiling nonetheless.

"Um, thank you, Professor," she said nervously. "I- I'll be sure not to let you down!"

And with that she scampered out of his office.

Charles got nothing but happy vibes from Nora for the rest of that week.

.

.

 _June 21st, 1973._

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Nora asked. "There's still time to get a dress!"

"Are you kidding?!" Wanda scoffed. "I wouldn't be caught dead in that strobe-lit, over-chaperoned mess of a prom!" Then she added, "But you… you enjoy yourself, alright?"

Nora rolled her eyes, giving Wanda and Eden a wave as she walked to the garage. As she hopped into the sleek red car, Nora looked in their direction one last time. There was talk of the two of them going on a trip to Poland; something Wanda had been planning since she was a child.

Nora wondered if she'd ever planned on having company.

 _They're standing awfully close to one another,_ she thought, noting how Wanda's arm kept 'accidentally' brushing against Eden's.

.

.

.

The drive from Westchester to Silver Spring was four and a half hours. They started out around noon, and this gave Alex -who was driving- and Nora plenty of time to talk.

"I called my parents last week," he told her over the Elton John that was playing on the radio.

Eyes wide, Nora turned down the music. Then she scooted to the left so they could talk easier.

"And?"

Alex had on a relieved smile when they spoke next. "My- my mom cried when she heard my voice."

"-That's a good thing, right?" Nora hadn't had much experience with tear-filled reunions -all of hers were just plain awkward.

He chuckled softly, "Yeah; they were happy to hear from me."

Nora threw her hands up, "Well what did I tell you!"

Alex shook his head, "Alright, alright… I get it: you know your shit."

"You're damn right I do!" Nora crossed her arms, giving him a straight look.

"And, well," he shoulder-checked before merging into the left lane. "I'm going to see them soon."

"Really? That's great! Where are you going?"

"After I get you back to Westchester, I'm catching a plane to my home town." Alex tried not to show it, but he was disappointed about having to wait.

Nora was about to rejoice when it hit her.

"Wait… So your family reunion -after being torn apart by a _war,_ no less- is being delayed because I needed a ride to some _prom?"_

He shrugged, "It's not that bad. You really make it out worse than it really is..."

"But it is that bad!" She cried out. "I will not _stand_ for this."

"You're sitting," he jokingly reminded her.

She shook her head, _and besides: I could've just gotten here myself. I should've just taken Wanda's car!_

Alex sighed, though he was amused by the amount of concern she was showing. "You really shouldn't worry so much."

"Oh, but I will!"

Nora's worry practically consumed her for the remainder of the journey, providing much entertainment for Alex.

When they passed over the town line, the sun beginning its slow decline in the distance, Nora made an executive decision.

"Okay: so here's how this is gonna work."

"Uh huh," Alex said dryly.

"Don't 'uh huh' me like I'm a five-year-old!" Nora pouted. "This is serious!"

"Of course, m'lady," Alex crooned, extending out his hand like a 'proper' english gentleman. "My ears are all yours."

"Ugh," Nora groaned, batting his hand away. "You can just drop me off, okay? The guy I'm meeting here can get me back to the mansion."

Alex frowned, "And by 'the guy' do you mean the fast one with the silver hair?"

Nora rolled her eyes, "Yeees, and his name is _Peter." Or Pietro,_ she thought. _Depending on how well you know him._

"Hmm…" Alex touched down on the brake as the pulled up next to the school. "I guess that's okay… As long as you're _sure?"_

Nora nodded earnestly.

"Make safe decisions, alright?"

Nora scoffed at this, retrieving her bag from the trunk. Then she saw he was being serious and nodded solemnly.

"Thanks for the ride, Alex," she said as a way of saying goodbye. "I know your parents will be happy to see you!"

Alex waved goodbye, keeping an eye on her until she was safely inside the school.

.

.

With time paused, Nora changed in the girl's bathroom. Her dress was a pale pink colour. A simple faux-corset bodice with a skirt that had only a _little_ tulle underlining it.

Looking into the mirror, she twisted her hair into a bun. Her diamond-eye mask attached perfectly to her glasses. (Something that had taken her _hours_ of experimenting to perfect.) It was a darker shade of pink than her dress, and had a lacy pattern that matched the one of the bow in her hair.

She had on some fingerless gloves that extended past her elbows, leaving only a thin strip of bare skin between her dress sleeve and the gloves' end.

As Nora was about to un-pause time, she finally realized that she wasn't alone in the bathroom.

Rosie Robinson stood at the other end of the sinks, hand apparently in mid-swipe of reapplying her mascara.

Nora cocked her head. It looked like she had gained some weight. She wondered what she had been up to in the past year.

The bathroom door closed shut behind her as Nora jogged down the hall in her sneakers. She made sure there was no one else around before restarting time.

Nora stashed her bag in Wanda's locker before making her way to the gym.

.

.

The music blared itself loud and clear. -Almost like a struggling trumpeter trying to make their way into a viable audition.

Nora found that if she stood too close to any of the speakers, her teeth would begin to vibrate. So she kept to the centre of the gymnasium.

Tight fabrics, slit skirts, flamboyant colours. She took part in none of these. Nora's outfit -mask and all- was elegant enough for her to fit in -yet not so gaudy for unwanted attention to be drawn.

The waning days of public high school could be seen in each and every one of their faces. Excited eyes and smiles -with a clear layer of nervousness just beneath.

Nora somehow knew this feeling very well -though she knew not from where.

She stood at the centre, directly above the mascot's painted face. All around her were the true elements of young adulthood. Straining friendships; fears of what may be to come; sexuality so vibrant and unkempt that even the teachers had given up on curbing it.

And then there was the realization. The realization that this was the end. The end to the beginning of the rest of their lives.

The music made a slow change into a much more upbeat song. The teens began to jump around to the rhythm, their voices one, massive cacophony.

Nora found the words spilling out of her mouth as the infectious energy was spread.

Somehow she knew these words… she knew the rhythm of the song even before it adjusted into something else.

Nora was tempted to ask someone who it was by; but she doubted her voice would ever be heard above the noise.

 _How often does one feel like this? ...Feel so… connected?_

Nora didn't even realize it at first, but eventually the song changed; and that one soon did the same.

For what seemed like forever she was in a complete state of frozen bliss -untouchable.

But everyone needs to rest sometimes.

Even with her _not_ wearing heels, her feet had began to hurt. So Nora settled down in the socially awkward area that was the snack table.

She didn't mind it there -it was nice, actually, without the fear of being trampled _literally_ held over her head.

Nora spotted Rosie on the dance floor. (She recognized her by the dark blue dress.)

She danced freely through the crowds, tailed by no one. Nora wondered if she'd ditched her posse, or if the posse had ditched her.

Either way, she seemed happy; carefree.

Nora smiled.

She watched Rosie as she came across a taller boy in a black tux.

And although that was basically the description of every male in the room: Nora picked this one out instantly.

The silver hair was a dead giveaway. And behind the crow feather-esque mask, Nora was sure she would find a pair of blue eyes.

She grabbed a paper napkin from the snack table and scrawled a note on it. Then, pausing time, she made her way over to him.

Peter noticed the sudden heaviness in his breast pocket right away. He reached in, pulling out a napkin.

Unfolding it, he saw the note, immediately recognizing the delicate print.

 _By the punch bowl,_ it smiled, _Of course she would be over there._

Weaving through the members of his grad class, Peter quickly wound up next to the only person who'd ever managed to get ahead of him.

Her dress was the colour of a freshly-bloomed rose, its pink skirt spilling out from a higher-than-normal point on her waist.

Unusually, her hair was up, and in it: a dark flower that's name only she could probably pronounce. (You could hardly see it in this darkness.)

As following the theme, her face was masked.

That _goes well with concealing her identity,_ Peter mused.

She sensed his presence, a smirk making its way across her mouth. _Fast as ever._

Nora shifted her stance until she was facing him at an angle. The crown of her head was pushed back against the wall, arms crossed, as she stared at him.

"Hi."

 _"_ _Salut,"_ Peter greeted her.

She cocked her head, that forever-absent twinkle reappearing momentarily in her eye. "You've been practicing?"

He shrugged, "A bit."

She nodded, returning her gaze to the dance floor.

A slower song came on, signifying the time for everyone to scramble and find a dance partner -lest they be pushed to the walls in solitude.

Over the course of the song, Peter and Nora began to consciously move closer to one another, each unaware of the other's actions.

When their fingers brushed against one another, creating an invisible burst of kinetic energy, both teens quickly jumped away.

"I am not. _Dancing."_ Nora stated, being in complete denial of the musical infection that had previously overtaken her person.

Peter chuckled, "I would expect nothing less from you."

"But I don't want to take you away from this." Nora hung her head, "This is _your_ graduation."

"So then, when's _yours?"_ Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nora scoffed, "Oh, please! I should have graduated _years_ ago!"

"Riiight… yet you _chose_ to go through the horrors of high school."

"Hey," Nora protested. "Just because I have the brain capacity of a genius, doesn't mean I'm the most 'street-smart' person!"

Peter sighed, turning so he could face her completely. "And exactly _how_ many gang-related turf wars have you been in?"

"That's racist," Nora poked at him.

"How many?"

She thought for a moment before answering. "Three." Although two of them hadn't even been in this century; so could they really be considered as such?

Peter clapped his hands, "Exactly!" _God, she's adorable when she gets frustrated like this._

He didn't expect an apology from her for what he'd done -and what had happened. Even though she had taken the 'kill the messenger' thing a _bit_ too far.

Still, Peter wondered if there was a chance for them to restart. -Not to forget what had happened! From what she had told him: there was no forgetting what had happened to her in the Pentagon.

All he wanted was a second chance.

"Hey," Nora said, putting a hand on his arm. "You okay?"

"-Huh? Oh, yeah: I'm good." He blinked a few times before flashing her his brilliant smile.

She shrugged off his momentary lapse. "You know where the after-party for this thing is?"

"You really want to go to that? All it's gonna be is just some dumbasses running around in the forest, getting drunker than skunks."

"Sooo… Lake Montgomery?"

"Yeah," Peter groaned. "Same place it is every year."

"Then I guess we better get there soon if we wanna stake out our usual place."

It took Peter a second, but then he remembered the rock outcropping over-looking the south shore. That had been where she'd told him when she was truly from.

Turning everything down to his speed, Peter hooked one arm under Nora's knees, while the other supported her back. He held her close as he ran them out of the gym.

Only one person noticed their sudden disappearance. -Probably the last person they would have wanted to see.

A federal agent, stationed there to keep watch over the Maximoff's actions, quickly made his way to the nearest phone.

.

.

.

In less than a second, they were there.

Peter set her down. Nora let her hand linger a little longer than necessary as her stomach flip-flopped.

 _We haven't_ willingly _been that close since… since before._ Nora had almost forgotten what it was like to share such proximity to someone.

"Should we sit?" Peter suggested. He gestured to the moss-covered ground where they always used to go to.

"I- I like this dress," Nora stuttered. _Like this dress?! What are you? A total_ priss?!

Before he ran off to retrieve a blanket, Peter gave her an eye-roll worthy of even the sassiest of tweens.

They sat side by side, close enough that their elbows often found reason to touch.

"So; what now?"

Nora looked to Peter, and discretely snapped her fingers. She took in everything about him in a single, paused moment. His distinctive hair, bright blue eyes, cocky yet respectful demeanor. His tendencies to talk too much, but somehow saying all the right words.

Then she kissed him on his unknowing lips. An act that he would never be made aware of.

"I'm going to tell you what happened in Paris," she stated, time resumed.

Peter was almost certain that she had paused time -after all, her position had changed, if only a bit. He let it go.

"Okay." He nodded for her to speak.

The words came out in a rush. Meeting her future self. Finding out that Nora was the only one who could travel back to that particular date -and that's what the older Nora used her for.

Nora explained how killing her sister was the primary factor to the cause of this timeline. And how she had done it -by accident… while trying to stop it from happening at the same time.

"-And that's all I know," Nora concluded. "But if I _ever_ see that bitch again… I'll beat the answers out of her _myself."_

Peter's eyes were wide as he tried to grasp on to what she had just told him.

"So an alternate-future version of yourself… went back in time -or in a different dimension?- to make sure you would go back and kill your sister -so this _entire timeline_ would exist? That's insane!"

Nora laughed, "It's crazy either way..."

The sun had set by now, and the two of them looked up to stare at the night sky.

There were plenty of stars; the city's light pollution didn't reach this far.

"Um, so… why did you tell me all of that?" Peter asked cautiously. "Wha- what does it all mean?"

"It means that I'm trying to say I'm sorry -and that I forgive you," Nora spoke softly. "Though I wish I didn't have to do either of those things… I just wish- wish that the future me never happened. The maybe, we wouldn't have all been pushed into this mess!"

"Thank you… But you don't need to apologize -or forgive me," Peter consoled.

"But I said so many horrible things to you..." Nora whispered.

"-You needed someone to yell at," Peter said.

"And _you_ were that person?!"

"Yes!" Peter exclaimed.

"Why!?" Nora cried.

"It would be easier for you," he said softly, shoulders sagging. "To have someone more… accessible to direct your anger at." At least, that's how it made sense to him.

Nora shook her head and leaned in to Peter. "You're getting this all wrong; _I'm_ supposed to be the crazy one."

Peter laughed humorlessly, "Right." The he looked as her, serious. "You know that I don't believe you're crazy, right?"

Nora blinked, "Oh. Um, thanks, I guess?"

She let the silence grow for another minute. Then Nora said what she'd wanted to since the beginning.

"So, um… well: what I've been trying to say is that if I'm right in my assumptions of how you feel… -About me, that is!" She took a deep breath. "Then I'd like to try again."

"Try what again?" Peter said, feigning curiosity. He needed her to say it out loud.

It was an impossible moment before Nora finally whispered her answer.

"Us."

Peter smiled.

.

.

.

They held hands for the first time in eleven months. Nora lazily kicked a rock down the dirt road. She made a face as it moved out of her range after an un-calculated nudge.

Peter watched each and every one of her movements, storing them away in his mind's eye.

They began the walk back into town around two in the morning. -A feat much more easily accomplished by using Peter's speed; but for now, they walked, enjoying the silence in the air.

There were lights at the end of the road.

Red, white and blue.

Nora craned her neck and spotted the cop cars with her sharp-shooters' vision. Three of them, careening down the road.

She stopped Peter and they waited. Dressed in a tuxedo and a fancy princess dress, (that even Brygit would be jealous of) the pair made an odd sight in the headlights.

"Put your hands up!" One man yelled as he exited the car. He had a gun, and was wearing uncharacteristically black clothing, Nora noticed.

 _Probably from the FBI,_ she thought as he and Peter raised their hands.

"Nora," -she wanted to laugh out loud at how awkwardly her lone first name was said; she really needed to get a new surname- "You are under arrest and are to be returned to the custody of the Pentagon!" The same man yelled.

"More like re-arrest," Peter whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Hey! Don't talk!" A much more local-looking officer got out of the passenger side. He looked _way_ out of his league.

"I don't know, babe," Peter chimed. "They've got _guns._ Maybe this is the end of the line."

"Of course," Nora scoffed, shifting one hand behind her bun and out of sight. "What _ever_ will we do against _people?"_

It looked like the federal agent was about to yell at them again, but he didn't get to.

Peter hooked his elbow around hers.

Nora snapped her fingers.

And they were gone.

The End.

.

.

.

 **So there you have it! *cries* The end to 'Time in a Bottle'. Now, some of you have asked about a sequel… I _do_ have some ideas of what I want to write, but I don't want to make any promises. I kind of want to take a break from these characters for a bit. (Does that make any sense?)**

 **In other news, I _am_ currently writing an AU one-shot for this story -and I have a few others in mind XD So check my author's page in a month or two, and maybe you'll find something else ;)**

 **In my final words, I just want to thank every single person who bothered to read my silly story. You all have been so kind, and though it's been said before -you're the reason I kept at it. So, one last time: thank you :)**


	43. An Apology and an Announcement

**Hello there! It's been a while, hasn't it? *dodges flying tomatoes* This is part apology and part announcement. The announcement: the first part of that AU one-shot about older Nora? (Remember that?) Yeah, that's finally up. The apology is pretty self-explanatory: I'm _so_ sorry it took this long (eight or nine months?) for it to be uploaded. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if no one had any interest in it anymore.**

 **BUT, if you do, it is now on my profile, titled 'Running From Time'. And in case you wanted a little taste of what is in store, I've put a bit of the first part down below :)**

* * *

As soon as Dani came home that day, Nora knew something was wrong.

The door flew open, only to be closed carefully without making a sound. Nora closed her eyes as she heard the closet open and then the unzipping of a bag.

She entered Dani's room to see her throwing various items of clothing into her suitcase.

Danielle barely looked up as Nora cleared her throat.

A flash of anxious green eyes. Then the words, "You too. Pack now."

"What happened?" Nora asked.

Danielle shook her head. "Pack first. Talk later."

Nora groaned, "I'm sixteen now, Dani—not a kid anymore! You can tell me these things… please?"

Dani stopped, hovering over a pair of paint-stained jeans. "That boy you befriended."

 _"_ _Tom,"_ Nora reminded her, arms crossed. Then she frowned, "what about him?"

"Yes, _Tom."_ Danielle shook her head, throwing the painting jeans into the discard pile. "If we stay here any longer, something terrible is going to happen to him."

"What do you mean?" Nora implored Danielle to tell her. "What'sgoing to happen, Dani? Is he going to get hurt?"

Danielle shook her head solemnly, saying, "worse than that."

Nora froze. Eventually, she got it out: _"...dead?"_

Danielle stopped packing and faced her. "I tell you this _every time,_ Nora. _Don't ask about what I see._ Trust me, and everything will be all right." She saw how scared Nora looked and went over to her. Taking her hand, Danielle said, "please, just trust me: when have I ever wronged you?"


End file.
